


Guns and Ghouls

by Omninerd90



Series: Guns and Ghouls [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drinking, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Recreational Drug Use, Sensuality, Strong Language, smut to come in future installments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omninerd90/pseuds/Omninerd90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sole Survivor Rose of Vault 111 rolls into Goodneighbor looking for news of her son, and finds a new friend in the town's favorite ghoul. But all choices have consequences, and all new friends bring their own share of enemies. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Update:  Ch. 6 and Ch. 9 are new content, for those of you who read this when I first published it.  I also went through and revised a lot of the writing to better fit the characters and the canon. n_n</p>
<p>(Can also be found on my ff.net page, under the same username!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of the People, For the People

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment in what I am planning to be a trilogy, exploring the evolution of my SoSu and Hancock's relationship. A lot of the plot does follow the main game storyline, but I do my best to add my own twists and turns and take artistic license to keep things interesting.
> 
> Notes, suggestions, comments, are all appreciated!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Updated to be... better. For lack of a more apt description lol.
> 
> Didn't change much, just made the writing a little more organic/ in-character.

Rose grinned as she stepped into the neon glow of the sign hanging above her head:  Goodneighbor.  She had finally made it.  Not an easy place to get to, all things considered.  It wasn’t far from Diamond City, but ducking through those few blocks had been like traversing a war zone.  She could definitely stand to pay a visit to the local doc if they had one…  her tussles with the various wasteland fauna and the ever-violent raiders had taken their toll. 

Still, she hardly felt the bumps and bruises as she stepped through the door to the makeshift wall guarding the city.  It could be that here, she would finally get some answers.

It had been roughly six or seven months since she had fallen out of her cryo tank, gasping for breath and sobbing as her numb fingers scrabbled at the controls to her husband’s tank.  He’d been frozen instantly, but it still wasn’t enough.  The man who had shot him had been precise; the bullet had gone clean through Nate’s head.  He’d probably been dead before he’d even heard the crack of the pistol.  Instantaneous, no suffering.

Rose, on the other hand, felt she would relive that moment for the rest of her life.

But she quickly found out that the wasteland of the Commonwealth was unforgiving, and she had been given little time to grieve.  She’d found mercy in a few new friends who had helped her learn how to survive, and whatever she lacked in skill she made up for in burning anger and determination.  Her son was still out there somewhere with that murderer, and she was going to find him.  It didn’t matter what it would take.

Every hair stood on end when she stepped through the junk gates bordering the shantytown.  She’d heard a little about Goodneighbor while she was in Diamond City, and none of what she heard was good.  The town was dark, home to criminals, junkies, and degenerates of every flavor… in other words, exactly the sort of place that a husband-killing kidnapper might call home.  And if the man who took Shaun didn’t live there, then she was willing to bet that there was at least someone who knew where to find him.  There was no way he just vanished completely after abandoning that spot in Diamond City.

A bald guy dressed in leathers was guarding the entrance to Goodneighbor.  Rose’s eyes narrowed when he turned his attention on her; the guy had a mean, shady look about him that she didn’t like.  Admittedly, so did the other individuals she spotted lurking around, but none of them seemed overly interested in ruining her day.  This guy, on the other hand...

Almost without thinking, her hand drifted to the shotgun she had strapped to her side.  She had taken it off a raider, and had modified it throughout her travels using whatever junk she could find along the way.  The thing had the range almost of a pistol, and could tear through leather and raider armor like tissue paper.  Not bad for a vault-dwelling ex-housewife.

“Hold up there,” the drifter said, moving in front of her path.  “First time in Goodneighbor?  Can’t go walking around without insurance.”

Rose scowled.  She hated that type of shakedown bullshit; she could write a textbook with all the cases she’d studied about it.  Gangsters in the bad areas of the city- back when Boston was an actual city- often demanded tribute of citizens unlucky enough to be in their territory.  Those who didn’t pay the protection money found themselves at the mercy of not-so-random vandalism, violence, and worse.

“Unless it’s ‘keep dumb assholes away from me’ insurance, I think I’m good,” she replied tersely.  She tried to walk past but the thug blocked her way, grinning at her with an expression that was anything but friendly.

“Come on, now, don’t be like that.  People who walk around Goodneighbor without insurance usually end up in accidents… big, bloody accidents, if you catch my drift.”  His fingers tapped the pistol in his waistband, like that was supposed to intimidate her.  “I usually take caps, but if you can’t pay, I’m sure a pretty girl like you and I could figure something out.”

Rose wrinkled her nose, disgusted.  “I’d sooner let myself be eaten alive by a nest of molerats.  Now get the fuck out of my face before I use my shotgun to rearrange yours.”

The thug smirked and reached for his pistol.  “Suit yourself, vault-dweller.”

“Whoa, whoa, time out.”

Rose paused with her shotgun already halfway out of its holster, her eyes flickering over to the two figures who had just stepped out of the doorway to her left.  The one who had spoken was a ghoul – not a feral, like the ones she had seen scattered throughout the Commonwealth, but one whose brain survived the rads.  She hadn’t met many of those yet.

He was dressed peculiarly, in an old-fashioned military coat and a tricorner hat.  Trailing behind him was an intimidating woman decked out in metal armor, toting a big gun.  Rose immediately pegged her as the muscle, and made a mental note to avoid pissing her off.

The ghoul continued toward them, giving her a quick wink before glaring at the thug.  “Someone steps through the gate the first time, they’re a guest.  You lay off that extortion crap.”

The thug scoffed, turning to face the ghoul.  “What d’you care?  She ain’t one of us.”

The ghoul cocked his head.  “No love for your mayor, Finn?  I said let her go.”

So this ghoul was the mayor.  Might explain why he was dressed like a revolutionary.

The thug’s – apparently Finn’s- face soured.  “You’re soft, Hancock.  You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

“Come on, man, this is me we’re talking about,” the ghoul replied, stepping in closer and opening his arm in a welcoming gesture.  “Hey, let me tell you something.”

The instant that Finn leaned in, the ghoul grabbed him and stabbed him with a knife pulled out of nowhere.  Rose jerked slightly, taken aback.  Whatever she had expected upon entering this city, it certainly wasn’t that.  Cold-blooded murder in the open streets was a little extreme for anything short of a raider hovel, in her opinion.  But none of the other bystanders reacted… so either this “mayor” literally had enough power to get away with murder, or this sort of thing was par for the course.  She wasn’t certain which idea she liked least.

The ghoul stared at Finn’s prone body on the ground, as casual as if they had just shared a conversation about the weather.

“Now why’d ya have to go and say that, huh?” he asked, kicking the body idly with his boot.  “Breakin’ my heart over here.”  He looked over at Rose.  “You alright, sister?”

She hadn’t moved, her hand still on the butt of her shotgun as she evaluated whether or not the ghoul was a threat.  He had rescued her from Finn’s bullshit- a little overzealously, perhaps- but that didn’t mean he was devoid of his own agenda.

“I’m guessing he wasn’t a close friend of yours,” she said at last.

The ghoul shrugged.  “Finn was outta line.  Been stomping all over my last nerve for a while now.”  His dark eyes- completely coal black- gave her a once-over, and he grinned when she crossed her arms and glared.  “I know a girl like you probably coulda handled herself, but sometimes you gotta remind everyone who’s boss.  Name’s Hancock, mayor of the great and glorious city of Goodneighbor.  I hope this idiot-” he kicked Finn’s body a second time “- didn’t sour your first impression of our fine little community.”

“Assholes are a dime a dozen in the wasteland,” Rose replied.  Having decided he wasn’t about to stab her the same way he had Finn, she extended her hand towards him.  “Thanks for the help I guess, Hancock.  You can call me Rose.”

For a split second Hancock looked surprised by her offer of a handshake, but the moment quickly passed.  He gripped her hand firmly in his scarred one, a pleased expression on his face.

“Goodneighbor is of the people, for the people.  You stay cool, and you’ll fit in just fine.  You feel me?”

Rose arched an eyebrow.  “’Of the people, for the people?’”

“Everyone here is free to live their own lives, with no judgment or persecution from anyone else,” Hancock explained.  “So long as they remember who’s in charge, that is.”

Rose nodded.  “Alright, I feel you.”  _Not like I have much of a choice._

Hancock grinned.  “Good.  Lemme know if I can do anything for our newest resident.”

* * *

**(Hancock)**

That evening, Hancock leaned in the doorway to his balcony, watching the nearly-empty streets.  It was late, and most people were either turning in or getting plastered down in the Third Rail.   He was preoccupied with thoughts of the newcomer; he had never seen anyone like her before, and he had seen a lot of folks.  That red hair was something he had only seen in old photographs and posters from the pre-war era, and she didn’t have the weathered, leathery skin of your average wastelander.  That could be due to the fact that she was a vault-dweller; the Pip Boy on her arm had labelled her more clearly than a nametag, even if she was missing the usual blue jumpsuit. 

Most vault-dwellers had a pretty negative reaction to ghouls, though, and she didn’t so much as do a double-take when she saw him.  She had been wary, sure, but he got the feeling she had been more concerned about him stabbing Finn than what he looked like.  Most “normal” people treated ghouls like they were subhuman, but she even shook his hand without hesitation.  It was unusual, to say the least.

 _Speak of the devil…_ Hancock smirked as he noticed the new girl wander into his sightline from a nearby alley.  For the moment she was the only one in the street, except for a few drifters doing their antisocial thing in the shadows.  He watched as she walked up to the entrance of the Memory Den; she paused, staring up at the sign.  He wondered what kind of business she had there.

A couple of drifters stirred on the other side of the street.  They moved in on new girl; she had her back turned to them, and didn’t seem aware of their approach.  Hancock’s eyes narrowed; this could be bad.

One of the drifters made some loud comment as they came up on her, and new girl spun around, looking pissed.  They exchanged words for a few moments, getting steadily more heated.  Hancock found himself wondering if he should head over to intervene.  He didn’t normally like to get too involved in the affairs of the people - kind of went against the whole Goodneighbor way of doing things - but something about this newcomer made him want to rethink his policy.  Besides, two big guys against one girl - even a spunky girl with a shotgun- wasn’t exactly gonna be a fair fight.

The argument got more escalated; it was hard to make out any specific words, but their raised voices could be heard echoing through the street.  One of the drifters moved forward to grab the new girl’s shoulder, and in an instant she threw a punch at him.  She connected solidly, and he went down; Hancock noticed the glint of metal around her fingers and grinned.  She had her own set of brass knuckles.  Nice.

Scumbag #2 moved in on her, but he barely got more than a step forward before New Girl swung her shotgun around, the barrel resting inches from his face.  She didn’t shake or waver as she stared him down; clearly, she had used it before, and not just to injure.  It was the same confidence he had seen in her when she dealt with Finn.

The drifter hesitated, but ultimately decided his pride was not worth getting his head blown off.  He picked up his friend and moved on, throwing a few colorful insults back as he left.

Hancock had to hand it to her:  she was a scrappy thing.  Most women in Goodneighbor were pretty tough, but not all of them were willing to take on two men in a fistfight… and it wasn’t exactly like she had been around all that long.  He was liking this chick more and more every minute.

She stood for a moment and watched the two drifters leave, and then - almost as if she could feel his gaze - she looked right up at him on the balcony.  He was in shadow, but he didn’t doubt she could see him.  Neither of them moved for several seconds; she was so far away that it was difficult for him to get a read on what she was thinking.  Then, just as quickly as she had noticed him, she walked off, heading into Hotel Rexford.

Interesting.  He took a long drag on his cigarette, lost in thought.  Maybe he could find some work for this newcomer… she was someone he wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on.

* * *

**(Rose)**

Rose strode back into the main street of Goodneighbor, having just picked the brains of a few locals about the Institute and their suspected activities in the area.  Not much to go on… it seemed that the Institute didn’t much care to tangle with the folks of this town.  She didn’t exactly blame them.   Goodneighbor residents weren’t for the faint-hearted.  For many of them, morality was fluid and vague, and they weren’t afraid to defend themselves… or attack others, if they felt that there was a good enough reason.  Hard living did that to people, she supposed.  But with the exception of that first now-dead thug, everyone she spoke to seemed willing to help as much as they could.  She had that effect on people… she had always been charismatic, and it was easy for her to worm her way past a person’s guard.

She passed by the entrance to the Memory Den, and stopped to look up at the sign.  She had heard Nick mention it once or twice, and wondered what it would be like to relive the memories she had before she went into the vault.  Already she could feel details fading… what color the carpet was in their home, the scent of her husband’s clothes, the song that Shaun’s mobile played.  How long would it be until it all vanished?

“Hey, vault-dweller!  Why don’t you bring that sweet little ass over here?”

Rose whirled around, eyes tight.  Two men approached her from across the street; both were dressed in jeans and leather jackets, like the hoods from back before the war.  She didn’t see any obvious weaponry, but she didn’t doubt that they each had some kind of blade on them, possibly more.

“Get lost,” she said firmly, slipping her hand into her pocket to weave her fingers through her brass knuckles.

“That’s not very friendly,” one of the men said.  He was a swarthy guy, big with dirty brown hair and a few missing teeth.  Charming.

“Not looking to make friends,” Rose replied tartly.  Her instinct was to back up as they approached, but she forced herself to hold her ground.  Men like this would take that as a sign of weakness, of submission.

“Really?  ‘Cuz you seemed pretty damn chummy with ole Daisy and Hancock,” the other thug challenged.  By now they had drawn level with her, and were only about a foot or so away.  “You got a thing for ghouls or something?  Guess even a vault-dweller like you can be a freak.”

“ _Walk away_ ,” Rose intoned, putting as much steel into her voice as she could.  “There’s no reason why this has to get ugly.”

“But hey, being a freak ain’t such a bad thing,” thug #2 continued, a lascivious grin on his face.  “I bet you’re into all kinds of kinky shit, aren’t you?  Little vault-dweller just dyin’ to be tied up and taught a lesson…”

He reached out to grab her shoulder, and Rose snapped.  She swung at his face, connecting with a hard _thwack_ as metal met flesh and teeth.  The drifter dropped like so many bricks, knocked out cold.  His friend immediately moved forward to retaliate, but she jumped back and raised her shotgun at the same time, the barrel inches from his face.

“I already warned you twice,” she said icily, ignoring the throbbing from the punch in her hand.  “Now get _the fuck_ out of my face or you’ll be missing more than teeth.”

He hesitated, weighing his chances, but ultimately decided she wasn’t bluffing… or that it wasn’t worth the risk.  He reluctantly hefted his friend up and shuffled away, spouting off every colorful insult in the book as he did so.  Rose didn’t care.  She didn’t have to waste a shell on him, so that was a win in her book.  She’d need to use part of a stimpak to treat the bruises that were forming on her knuckles, though.

As she watched the thugs limp away, Rose felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck.  Her eyes were drawn to the shadows in the balcony of the State House; she was a little surprised to notice a figure standing there.  She noted the fancy hat and raised her eyebrows; it was Hancock.  Was he watching her?  Did he just see that entire exchange?  She kind of hoped not.  He defended her when she first walked through the gates, but she doubted he’d be thrilled with her continuing to rough up his citizens (no matter how unsavory they might be).

She stared at him a moment longer, waiting for some kind of movement or acknowledgement.  When none came, she simply holstered her shotgun and headed off for her room in Hotel Rexford.  She needed some rest badly… and maybe a drink or two.


	2. Bar Talk

**(Hancock)**

“So whattya think of this new girl that’s been hanging around?”

Daisy’s rough voice jerked Hancock out of his jet-and-alcohol induced reverie.  They were down in the Third Rail; he needed to blow off some steam, and Daisy happened to be one of his favorite drinking partners.  She had a sharp wit that steadily got more satirical (and therefore more hilarious) the drunker she got.

He shrugged in response to her question.  “Useful sorta chick.  She’s out doin’ me a favor, checking out Pickman’s Gallery.”

Daisy arched her eyebrows… or she would have, if she had any.  “You sent her out to Pickman’s?  On her own?”

“She was lookin’ for work.  I just need her to scope it out for me; haven’t found anyone else with the balls to go out there yet.”

“You wouldn’t catch me doin’ it,” Daisy agreed, nodding.  “I’ve had her doin’ a few odd jobs here and there myself.  You know she didn’t so much as flinch the first time she walked into my shop?  Woulda thought she was dealing with a bunch of regular joes.”

Hancock shoved her lightly with the tip of his boot.  “Hey, we _are_ regular joes, Daisy.  Bein’ a ghoul don’t change that.”

“Yeah, yeah.  You know what I mean, Hancock.  Most wastelanders turn right back around the instant they get a glimpse of this beautiful mug of mine.  This girl didn’t so much as look twice.”  She took a swig of her beer, shaking her head in disbelief.  “She’s somethin’ else.  Oughta see if we can convince her to stick around awhile… take her in before Diamond City does.  Goodneighbor could use more folks like that.”

“Whole damn Commonwealth could,” Hancock muttered.

“I’ll drink to that.”  Daisy paused, looking at her friend appraisingly.  “Hey, you doin’ alright, Hancock?”

“Why you ask?”

Daisy shrugged. “I dunno.  Just seems like not that long ago I’d see you tearin’ it up in the streets every other night.  Now the only time I see you relax is when you show up in here, and that’s gettin’ fewer and farther between.”

“Bein’ mayor’s quite the time-suck,” Hancock replied.  “The bigger Goodneighbor gets, the more time I gotta spend makin’ sure everyone’s treatin’ everyone else right.  Or at least that they’re capable of dealin’ with their own shit if stuff starts to go down.  I spent so much time turning Goodneighbor into what it is now… don’t wanna see it go south, I guess.”

“You’re a good man, Hancock.”  Daisy took another drink and stared off into space thoughtfully.  “Just don’t forget that you can’t run a town on your own.  Sooner or later this town’s gotta stand on its own two feet.”

* * *

**(Rose)**

Rose was regretting accepting the Pickman job with every fiber of her being.  Hancock had made it sound easy enough:  sneak over, get a read on the situation, and get out without getting her head blown off.  But then, Hancock was the kind of guy that made _everything_ sound easy… the smooth-talking ghoul could sell breaking into Fort Knox as child’s play if he wanted to.

She broke into the gallery itself okay… and was confronted with a scene that was worthy of the grisliest horror movie.  She had picked her way through the piles of corpses, looking for answers, when she ran into the raiders who were busy hunting down Pickman himself (they were all too happy to add her to their hit list).  It had taken the better part of the day, all of her stimpaks, and nearly all of her ammo to clear them out.  And damn it there were certain things that you just _could not_ unsee.  Paintings were going to be ruined for her forever.

She got back to the Old State House by the time night had fallen, soaked in blood that was mostly not hers and tired to the bone.  She shoved her way past Hancock’s hired guards, ignoring their protests, and flung open the door to what used to be some kind of reception or break room on the second floor.  Hancock was lounging on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, and his ever-present bodyguard Fahrenheit was seated across from him.  The ginger-haired merc made to jump to her feet at Rose’s entrance, but Rose held up a palm to show she wasn’t interested in fighting any more for the day.

“Holy shit, how are you still standing?” Hancock asked, taking in Rose’s appearance with some surprise.  “All that yours?”

“Remind me to _never_ accept another job from you,” Rose said, tossing a few blood-splattered flyers onto the coffee table.  “I’ll be lucky if I ever get those images out of my head.  Jesus Christ.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Pickman was abducting raiders and killing them for his ‘art,’” she explained.  “He used their blood for his paintings… probably some other bodily fluids too, but I didn’t bother getting close enough to check.  Their bodies he either arranged in nice decorative heaps around the place, or he dismembered them to make some of the most fucked-up sculptures I’ve ever seen.”  She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing when she could feel the blood and grime caking it together in greasy strands.

Fahrenheit chuckled.  “Guess it was a little out of her league.”

Rose glared at her and said coldly, “I cleared them all out for you.  Including Pickman.  Since, you know, none of your guys were brave enough to handle it.”

Fahrenheit’s expression turned sour, but Hancock laughed.

“I think we underestimated our little vaultie,” he said, tossing Rose a good-sized bag of caps.  “Here, you more than earned it.  I’ll let you know if I come across anything else that needs to be taken care of.”

“I’ll be waiting on pins and needles,” Rose muttered sarcastically.  She left without another word, not even bothering to count the caps he had given her.

Hancock watched her leave, feeling just slightly perverse for admiring the way her hips swayed underneath her gore-stained leathers.  Fahrenheit was watching her too, though her gaze was somewhat less lecherous and more murderous.

“That little vault-dweller better watch herself, or she’s gonna end up in a gutter,” she growled.

“If she can take on an entire raider gang and a bloodthirsty psychopath on her own, I’m thinkin’ she’s gonna be just fine,” Hancock replied.  “You’re just pissed that she showed you up.”

“She got lucky.”  She crossed her arms, now staring daggers at him.  “You just want to keep her around because she’s got nice tits and a curvy ass.”

“I appreciate fine works of art, what can I say.”  He paused.  “Though she might not like the comparison so much after what she’s just seen.”

   “She’s gonna be trouble, Hancock.  I can feel it.”

He laughed.  “Come on, Fahre.  She’s a tough chick, sure, but she’s still just a vault-dweller out on her own.  There can’t be _that_ much trouble that she can get into.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Famous last words, Hancock ;).


	3. Better Friends Than Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for including the game dialogue... trying to gloss over it didn't come out well in the writing.

Well, she had done it now.  All she had wanted was to make a few more quick caps, maybe make some contacts that could help her find her son, and of course anything that hurt that bigoted jackass of a mayor out in Diamond City was a plus.  Dirt and mirelurks were supposed to be her biggest concerns.

Instead, she found herself standing clueless in Hancock’s storehouse, surrounded by his various hired guns and his second-in-command Fahrenheit.  Since the mercenary already hated her guts, Rose had been certain that she was going down… but instead of opening fire, Fahrenheit had given them all a chance to bail out.  The mercy had been on Hancock’s orders, no doubt.  But it was still another chance, and Rose wasn’t going to screw up a second time.

She accepted the offer immediately, but Bobbi had other plans.  Despite all her talk about hitting Diamond City, the shady ghoul had intended on ripping Hancock off from the start.  Out of the three of them, she was the only one who hadn’t been surprised by the confrontation. 

Being duped hadn’t gone over well with Rose.  Hancock was an altogether more dangerous target than the bumbling Mayor McDonough.  Bobbi’s deceit didn’t just put her at risk; even if he didn’t kill her outright, an enemy like Hancock would have enough power to seriously impede her search for her son if he felt like it.

So when Bobbi decided to get violent after she and Mel backed out, Rose didn’t have much of an issue helping Fahrenheit to put her down.

Rose was grateful that Fahrenheit had a merciful streak hidden somewhere deep underneath that killer exterior, but she was still in hot water.  She may not have ended up stealing any caps, but the property damage caused by blowing out the foundation to the storehouse was anything but minor.  It was hard to imagine anyone _not_ being pissed about that.

Fahrenheit had insisted that she go tell the news about her loyalty to the mayor herself.  She said Hancock would be pleased, but Rose wasn’t so sure.  Even though it was supposedly good news, Rose still had the persistent sensation of being sent to her father’s office for a spanking after she misbehaved… though she’d be more than a little stunned if taking her over his knee was how Hancock decided to handle things. 

However, she’d take that option over the other methods of retaliation she’d heard about.

Rose took a deep breath, and pushed the doors to the conference room of the Old State House open.  Hancock was leaning against the wall; he didn’t seem surprised to see her, but she figured that would be the case.  The man seemed to know everything that happened in Goodneighbor.

“Hancock,” she said, inclining her head.

“Look who it is… our little vaultie, turned criminal mastermind,” he drawled, causing her to cheeks to redden.  “I hear that grand theft isn’t workin’ out so hot for you these days.”  He tossed a small bag at her; she could feel caps clicking inside when she caught it.  “Here.  For protecting my stash.  Wise decision, putting Bobbi down like that.”

Rose grimaced.  “She tricked us both… I should have known she was lying.  I’m sorry.  If I’d had known your storehouse was the one she was after, I’d have backed out long ago.  You were not the target I had in mind.”

Hancock shrugged.  “Hey, this is Goodneighbor.  No hard feelings.”

“So we’re cool?”

“We’re cool.”  Hancock sighed.  “Lemme tell ya, this classy little tricorner hat of mine is getting heavy.  Am I turning into the man?  Becoming some kind of tyrant?  Seems I spend all my time putting down people I woulda been proud to scheme with just a few years ago.”

Rose shrugged.  “Not a whole lot of other ways to stay in power.”

“I need to take a walk again.  Get a grip on what really matters:  living free.”

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, but on an impulse Rose found herself saying, “I have some things I need to take care of south of here.  If you’re serious about taking a break from Goodneighbor, you could come with me.  I’ve noticed that the wasteland kind of gets more terrifying the farther south you go… I wouldn’t mind having someone to watch my back.”

Much to her shock, Hancock grinned.  “Yeah, I like that.  You could be just the right kind of trouble.  Just let me have a quick chat with my community, give them the news.”

“Really?”  _What did I just get myself into?_   “Alright, then.  I’m going to gather my things from Hotel Rexford.  I’ll meet you by the gates in an hour.”

 _Did you really just do that?_ Rose asked herself as she left.  At the drop of a hat, she went from being on her own to traveling with a strange man that she knew barely anything about...  A man who happened to have a penchant for drugs and violence.  It was a scenario the woman she had been a couple centuries ago wouldn’t have ever imagined, or condoned.  Especially not as a married woman.  Well, technically still married.  Or widowed, she supposed. 

Still, Hancock had defended her against one of his own people when she had first entered the city… a little excessively, true, but he could have easily just stayed out of the whole thing.  And he had the opportunity to put her down when she was caught with Bobbi in his storehouse, but instead he had Fahrenheit spare her life.  And then he _paid_ her.  Those weren’t the acts of a person who’d betray their companions, or so she hoped.  And she really did need someone to watch her back; Preston had filled that role for quite a while before installing himself at the Castle, and she had been dreading heading back out into the wasteland without backup.

True to his word, Hancock was waiting for her by Goodneighbor’s main gate within an hour, one of his ever-present cigarettes dangling from his fingers and a sturdy double-barrel strapped to his waist.  He studied her closely as she approached, and she fought the urge to look down or hide her face.  What was he looking for?  The scrutiny made her feel like she was being x-rayed.

“Ready to get this freak show on the road?” he asked, as though running out with complete strangers was something he did all the time.  Hell, maybe it was.  How was she to know?

“After you,” she replied, following him through the gates and back out into the streets of Boston.  She reflexively put her hand on the butt of her shotgun and checked the knife she had hidden in her waistband; the ruins of this city weren’t a place where one would want to get caught unprepared.  She had learned that lesson when a band of ferals had chased her through Boston Commons… she had run out of ammo, and they had nearly overpowered her before she reached the turrets guarding the outskirts of Diamond City.  It was a lesson she wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.

“So where to?” Hancock asked in a cheery tone as they began walking.

It was so casual that Rose didn’t immediately know how to react.  He really must not have taken the attempted heist personally.  Like, at all.

Goodneighbor was a strange place.

“Do you know the Castle?” she asked, after gathering her thoughts for a moment.

“Uh… no.  Can’t say that I do.”

“It’s the minutemen’s main site of operations.  They need my help with a few things, and may have some important information that I need to get my hands on.”

Hancock paused and glanced at her skeptically.  “You’re with the minutemen?  I didn’t even know they were still around.”

“Um… yeah, you could say that,” Rose replied, trying to keep her tone light.  “I helped one of them protect a group of settlers from some pretty nasty raiders and a deathclaw out in Concord a little after I first woke up.  He brought me into the fold after that.”

Hancock came to a full stop.  “Wait a minute.  You’re saying that you helped take down a _deathclaw_?  How the hell did you do that?”

“With some power armor and the minigun off a downed vertibird.”

“What the fuck… now that’s a story I’ve _got_ to hear.”  He cocked his head.  “But hold up a second… you said all of that happened after you ‘woke up’?  What in the hell does that mean?”

Rose hesitated, unsure of how much she wanted to share.  That story could get real personal, real fast.  The only people who really knew all the details were her friends Piper and Nick Valentine out in Diamond City, and that was mostly because Nick was helping her investigate Shaun’s kidnapping.  But if Hancock was going to be traveling with her and helping her, it was only fair that he knew up front what he was getting into.

She spent a minute evaluating how much she should reveal, before finally asking, “About how old would you say you are, Hancock?”

“What?”

“Just humor me.”

He gave her a confused look, but acquiesced.  “Well, age doesn’t tend to matter so much when you’re a ghoul… bein’ close to immortal and all.  But I was in my mid-30’s when I left the smooth-skinned life behind, so I guess that puts me somewhere around 40 now.”  He winked.  “Guess that makes me your elder, doesn’t it?”

“Not quite,” Rose replied wryly.  “I’m over two hundred years old.”

“You gotta tell me your secrets, then, because you look fantastic for your age.”

“I’m not joking.”  She crossed her arms.  “You know that I came from a vault, but I never really lived in one.  I was cryogenically frozen for just over two centuries.”

Hancock frowned.  “Wait, you’re actually being serious?”

She combed her fingers through her auburn hair, closing her eyes as the memories resurfaced.  “Before the war… the day the bombs dropped, my family and I made it to a vault near my home in Sanctuary Hills.  We thought we were being saved, but it turns out Vault-Tec was freezing us as some kind of long-term experiment.  Eventually a glitch in the system caused me to de-freeze and wake up.  I…”  She cleared her throat as emotion began to choke her voice.  “I was the only one who survived.” 

“Well… shit.”  Hancock still had his eyes on hers, though their expression had softened from incredulity to something that looked a lot like empathy.  “I’ve heard a lotta crazy stories in my day, but I gotta admit, that one’s a first.  I guess it’s a fuckin’ miracle you’re alive at all.”

 Rose shook her head to rein herself back in, and began walking so that she’d have an excuse to look at anything else.  “I’ve been more or less on my own ever since, trying to find the people who did this to me.”

She wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell him about Shaun, except that she wasn’t ready to surrender that vulnerable information yet, especially since she couldn’t be certain where Hancock’s loyalties lied.  If things went south, the fact that she was looking for her infant boy could easily be used against her.  For now it was better that he assumed she was on a revenge mission; there was nothing to lose that way.

         “That’s rough,” Hancock sympathized, as he fell back into step next to her.  “Any idea who might’ve done it?”

         “I’m not sure… a few people have suggested the Institute.  I guess that’s as likely a culprit as any, at this point.”

         Hancock gave a low whistle.  “The Institute?  Man, you know how to pick your enemies.  I get the feeling that this is going to be one interesting trip.”

         “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

         He chuckled.  “I’ll let you know.  For now, let’s get to this Castle of yours.  Now, about that deathclaw…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note as to Hancock's age... I'm basing that off of when he was supposed to have turned ghoul (roughly around 2282), and the relative age of his brother (who looks to be about in his fifties). I figure that McDonough and Hancock aren't too far apart in age (like 10 years or so, max), so he was maybe in between 30-35 when he became a ghoul.


	4. Knock on the Castle Doors

The Castle was about a day’s walk south of Goodneighbor, out in the middle of a small bay.  Rose and Hancock had managed to make it out of Boston without encountering too much trouble - Hancock knew the safe routes and secret alleys better than almost anyone.  Now, however, it seemed their luck had run out.

“Fuuuckkkk,” Rose growled under her breath, watching the group of supermutants through a scope she had scavenged off a gunner’s discarded sniper rifle.  The group wasn’t aware of their presence yet, but they would be soon.  There was only way to the Castle unless you wanted to swim, and they were parked right smack in the middle of it.

“What’s the plan, Sunshine?” Hancock asked. 

He had taken to calling her that as a joke after some traders with a passing caravan tried to rip them off by charging an outrageous price for ammunition.  Rose had been irritated but had haggled fairly calmly with them until one had the audacity to call her by that name, obviously thinking she was nothing more than a harmless female vaultie.  She spent the next solid ten minutes tearing him a new asshole before Hancock finally intervened.  Now it looked like the nickname was going to stick… though she didn’t mind it as much when it came from him.

And she had bigger problems to worry about than nicknames.  Supermutants were big, tougher than nails, and about as smart as a brick.  All told, a dangerous combination.  It didn’t help that this particular group had a couple of mutant hounds with them as well.  The massive dogs were just as dangerous as their owners, sometimes more so since they could run faster.  At least it didn’t seem like they had a suicider with them.  Rose hadn’t seen one yet, but she had heard stories, and was in no rush to make that a reality.  She had already experienced enough nuclear bombs to last her a lifetime.

She glanced around at the small buildings that were clustered in front of the Castle.  Not enough cover to be able to sneak all the way through, but they might be able to get close enough to be in range of the artillery.  If they managed that, all she had to do was toss one smoke grenade and run like hell.  The minutemen would take care of the rest.

And if they didn’t make it, it was going to be quite the trick to escape with their lives- and limbs- intact.

“You ready to try something stupid?” she asked, shoving the scope back into her pack and gripping her shotgun.

Hancock smirked.  “When ain’t I?”

“Good.  Follow me… we need to stay low and quiet.  But if I tell you to run…”

“Then haul ass.  Gotcha.”

She nodded.  Just to be safe, she rummaged in her pack and palmed a syringe of Psycho.  Nate had never approved of drug use - he hadn’t even experimented in college, definitely hadn’t gotten hooked while in the army, and rarely drank.  But Nate wasn’t here now, and they weren’t cramming for exams or enjoying a neighborhood get-together in the suburbs.  A good dose of Psycho had saved her ass more than once already.

Cautiously, they moved forward, darting from bushes to rocks to buildings.  The supermutants still seemed unaware, but Rose could feel her heart pounding harder as they drew closer.  At eight feet tall and four feet wide at the shoulder, super mutants were the stuff of nightmares.  They could tear her apart as easily as a child tearing open a present on Christmas… and would probably eat her afterwards, too.  The thought made her shudder.

They were level with the group now, ducked low behind a half-destroyed cafe just within the reach of the artillery.  Rose stopped, and pulled out a smoke grenade.  As soon as she pulled the pin, they had seconds to get out of range… and they had to pray that the mutants weren’t quick enough on the uptake to follow.

“Remember what I said about running?” Rose breathed, her eyes locked on the nearest mutant hound.  It was sniffing a little too close to their direction for her liking.

Hancock inclined his head.  Rose took a deep breath, and pulled the pin out of the grenade with a soft _click_.

Instantly, the hound’s head snapped up.  It gave a low growl, and then threw back its head and howled - a hunting call.

“SHIT!” Rose yelled, tossing the grenade into their midst.  She pushed Hancock ahead of her.  “Run!”

They took off, making for the damaged part of the wall that encircled the Castle.  The smoke from the grenade was already in the air, but it would take a couple seconds for the minutemen to gather themselves and come to her aide.  She could hear the angry shouts from the mutants behind her, and heard the whistle of bullets and laser beams zipping past them.  She didn’t look back to see if the hounds were chasing them; she already knew that they were.  She could feel the impact of their heavy feet on the ground.

They were maybe a couple hundred yards from the safety of the Castle walls when Rose felt a hound wrap its jaws around her leg.  Its teeth didn’t puncture her combat armor, but it was strong enough to pull her down to the ground.  Without hesitating, Rose plunged the Psycho syringe into her thigh, screaming as the drug rocketed through her nervous system.

Hancock heard her scream and turned back, but the second hound was on him before he could make it to her.  Rose tried to make it to her feet but narrowly avoided getting her face chomped by a gaping set of jaws.  She threw up an arm to protect herself, using all of her strength to keep the thing’s head away from her own.  Its inch-long teeth punctured any skin not protected by armor, thick drool soaking her shirt and splattering everywhere as it thrashed its head.  The damn thing had the strength of a grizzly bear; it would tear her arm off if she didn’t act fast.

Fueled by Psycho, Rose managed to get enough leverage to shove the animal back.  She fumbled for her shotgun, bringing up in front of her just as the animal pounced a second time.  She leaned back against the dirt, closed her eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

 _Boom_.  Her bones quaked with the impact, and the hound went limp on top of her.  She had managed to bring the gun up under its chest and had blown a hole straight through its heart.

A second later, an explosion rattled the earth as the artillery found its mark.  A huge plume of fire and smoke rose up, engulfing the rest of the supermutants.  The blast momentarily took out her hearing; everything sounded like it was coming from very far away.  She struggled to lift the heavy body of the hound off of to the side, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Hancock’s face appeared above her.

“Christ, are you still with me?” he asked, using his shoulder to shove the beast’s body into the dirt.  Rose exhaled with relief; she could feel her entire body shaking with adrenaline.

“Never better.” 

Hancock helped her to her feet.  She was still wild-eyed from the Psycho, and he kept his hand around her arm to steady her.  He had tried Psycho once or twice himself, and knew that it was hard to come back to earth once the action was over.

“General!”

The shouts of several minutemen reached Rose’s ears; they were all running towards the two of them, weapons drawn and ready for battle.  Preston, predictably, was at the lead.  He slowed as he approached, noting the two dead hounds and the pile of rubble and carnage that was left of the supermutants.

“We came as soon as we saw your signal, General,” he said, reaching out as though to reassure himself that she was still in one piece.  “You should have warned us you were coming, we would have made sure to clear the area for you.”

“Didn’t seem necessary at the time,” Rose replied.  She noticed Hancock glance at her when Preston called her General, and blushed.  Well, no use hiding that now, she supposed.

“I need medical attention,” she said, dropping into a commanding tone that she had learned to adopt when leading the volunteers.  “My friend here does too.  Send a team to sweep the perimeter, and make sure there aren’t any more supermutants hanging around.  After we’re sure the threat’s gone and we’ve gotten patched up, I’ll speak with you about those settlements you contacted me about.”

“Yes ma’am.”  Preston turned to a couple of other minutemen and gestured for them to come forward.  “You two, help the General and her… companion, into the clinic.  The rest of you, you heard her.”

A few minutes later they were both in the Castle’s “clinic,” which was little more than a few beds and a stash of medical supplies.  Rather than take the room for herself, since she rarely stayed at the Castle as it was, Rose decided the old general’s quarters would be better suited to healing the sick and the injured.  They had recruited a traveling wasteland doctor named Doc Jones a while back, and it was he who was stuck with the task of patching them up.

“You know, General, it seems every time you visit, I’m the first one you see,” Jones remarked as she reclined wearily on a nearby cot.  “I don’t know whether to lecture you or be honored.”

“A little of both, maybe,” she replied with a faint smile.  The Psycho was wearing off, as was her adrenaline, and every ache and injury was demanding to be felt.

“So tell me, Doc,” Hancock said, leaning against the wall next to her (he had killed the second hound before it had managed to get ahold of him, and was much less worse for wear than Rose was).  “Why is it that all of you call Sunshine here ‘general’?”

The doctor looked surprised.  “Well because she is the general.  She is the leader of the minutemen.”

“Really?”  Hancock raised his brows, and Rose felt her blush return.

“Preston, uh, thought I would be a good fit for the job,” she explained.

“That’s putting it mildly.”  The cowboy-hatted minuteman was standing in the doorway, arms crossed casually.  He didn’t look as pissed as she expected that she’d tried to deal with a bunch of supermutants on her own; maybe she’d get lucky and he’d skip the lecture today.

“This woman here is the sole reason why the minutemen have been able to come back,” he continued, addressing Hancock.  “She saved my skin and that of every current resident of Sanctuary Hills, out of sheer human kindness.  Could have just left us to die; most others would have.”

“They would not,” Rose objected, but Hancock shook his head.

“Cowboy over there is right, doll.  Most people don’t give a damn about each other anymore.  Woulda thought you’d have figured that out back in Boston.”

Preston nodded.  “Anyhow, she tears through a building stuffed with raiders with nothing but her vault suit, a laser musket, and a dog.  And then, because that’s not enough, she puts on a power armor suit and takes out a deathclaw just for kicks.”

“I already told that story, and it was not ‘just for kicks,’” Rose interrupted, frowning.  “The damn thing just popped up out of the ground like a fucking daisy.  I’d never been so scared in my entire life.”

“But you killed it anyway,” Preston pointed out stubbornly.  “And you continued to help out our neighbors around Sanctuary until we had enough people on our side to officially reinstate the minutemen, and take back the Castle.  That earns you the right to the rank of general in my book.”

“Like you weren’t right there with me more than half the time,” Rose muttered, shaking her head.  It wasn’t that she was ashamed of being the General - as a matter of fact, she was honored.  But it didn’t stop her from feeling that Preston and the others had a higher opinion of her that she deserved.  She was just trying to survive and find her son; any other decent person would do the same in her situation.  Glory and a fancy title were at the very bottom of her priority list.

“Seems there’s a lot I don’t know about you yet, Sunshine,” Hancock said, a half-smile tugging at his scarred lips.

Rose opened her mouth, but her retort turned into a yelp when Doc Jones jabbed her with a stimpak.

“A little warning next time?!” she asked, as Hancock and Preston laughed.  “Yeah, real funny, you two.  Hilarious.”  She stood, stretching her rapidly healing muscles with a groan.  “You ready to go over those reports, Preston?  I’m not planning on staying put for too long.”

Her friend nodded, and she turned back to Hancock.  “Doc Jones can show you where to grab some food and refill our supplies.  This shouldn’t take too long; just make yourself at home.”

Hancock grinned cheekily and gave her a mock salute.  “Yes ma’am, General ma’am.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”


	5. Opening Up

It was nearing dusk, and Hancock stood up on top of the Castle’s walls, staring out across the water.  It was kind of a pretty sight, if you ignored the ruined buildings and various signs of destruction and violence.  Then again, anything could be pretty if you were drunk or high enough.  He was nursing a Jet buzz himself, and had a bottle of Gwinnett Stout hanging from his hand.  The Jet helped things to slow down, made things a little less frantic after the excitement of the day… though the effects were nowhere near as strong as when he had been smooth-skinned.

He heard footsteps, and turned to see Rose walk up beside him.  She took a seat on the edge of the wall, her feet dangling over the edge.  Maybe it was the Jet or the absence of all her usual body armor, but he found himself admiring the shape of her body beneath her worn clothing more than usual.  Rose didn’t have that malnourished, half-starved look that most wastelanders had… a benefit of growing up in a time before there actually was a wasteland, he supposed.  She was lean, sure, but she still had curves that he would love to get his hands on, if he ever worked himself up to doing anything about it.

If Rose noticed his stare, she didn’t say anything about it.  “The wasteland doesn’t look so bad from up here,” she remarked, echoing his earlier - more pure - thoughts.

“Yeah,” he agreed, dropping down to take a seat next to her.  “Hey, so why didn’t you tell me about being the leader of this place?  Seems like that’s something you oughta be proud of.”

Rose shrugged.  “It’s not that I’m ashamed of it.  It’s just… prudence, I guess.  People tend to underestimate me a lot more if they don’t know my history with these guys, gives me an edge.”  She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye.  “A little of it is awkwardness too, I’ll admit.  My father was military, so I understand the weight that this title carries.  I guess I don’t really feel that I deserve it.”

“Why the hell not?”

She shrugged again, not answering.  Hancock sensed that she was holding something back, and pushed lightly against her shoulder.

“Hey, you can trust me, doll.  What’s up?”

He could see her jaw clench, and then she sighed.  “I’m sorry, Hancock.  I’m not trying to be obscure on purpose.  But I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you.”

He wasn’t certain what that was supposed to mean, but no way was he about to interrupt her.  The woman was harder to read than a supermutant’s handwriting; it had been easy to see that she was holding something back, but he was damned if he could figure out what it was.

He offered her the beer bottle, and she took it gratefully, draining half of it in one draught.  A light flush crept into her cheeks, giving her a tipsy glow that made her that much more alluring.

“I told you before that I was the only survivor from my vault, and that’s true,” she said, her hands clasped tightly around the bottle.  “But that’s not the whole story.” 

Hancock could hear a deep sadness creep into her voice, and he stayed silent, unsure of how to respond.

“I told you I had a family, back before the bombs fell,” Rose said, gazing sightlessly over the horizon as she lost herself in memory.  “A husband, Nate… and a son.”

Hancock started.  “You got a kid?” he asked, unable to help himself.

She nodded, taking deep breaths to steady herself.  “A little boy… he’s not more than a year old.  We all went into the vault together.  My husband was holding him when they put us in the cryogenic tanks.”  She took another long swig from the bottle.  “One second I was stepping into the tank, watching the two of them in the one across from me… and then I woke up.  It was only for a minute or two.  I saw a man and a woman; the man was dressed in leather, bald, with a big scar on his face.  I watched as they opened my husband’s tank.  They wanted to take my baby; Nate wouldn’t let them.  When he refused to let go of my son, that man shot him in the head.”  She closed her eyes, the vivid memory flooding her thoughts.

“Holy shit,” Hancock muttered, stunned.

“He took my baby, Hancock,” Rose said, her voice low and suddenly raw.  “Took my Shaun and left me frozen in that stupid tank.  They didn’t even bother disposing of my husband’s body.”  She opened her eyes again, and they were glassy with tears, though she fought not to let them fall. 

Hancock was silent for a few moments, taking her story in.  Whatever he had expected, this certainly wasn’t it.  He wasn’t sure that he was equipped to deal with the intense emotions that she was struggling with.  He had never been with any one person long enough to form a serious bond with them, let alone have kids.  He couldn’t even imagine what having one taken from you must have felt like.

“How’d you get out?” he finally asked.

She shook her head.  “I honestly don’t know.  It was like another second later, I’m waking up again, and everyone is gone.  The entire vault was a tomb.”  She turned to face him fully, meeting his dark eyes with her green ones.  “That’s why I’m searching for the Institute.  I could care less what they did - or didn’t do - to me.  But everything I’ve heard points to them having kidnapped my baby, and I’m going to get him back.”  Her eyes hardened with a steely expression.  “I swear I’m going to get him back, no matter what I have to do to make it happen.”

“Damn, doll,” Hancock said.  “That’s some twisted shit.  Nobody should have to go through that.”

She blinked, seeming mollified by his response.  “Yeah.  And it’s only fair that you know what you’re getting into, sticking with me.  I’m not out here just to pick fights with whatever creep or monster gets in my way.”  She stared down at her hands, a faint frown creasing her brow.  “I can understand if you want to bail out.  This is my crusade; I don’t really expect anyone else to be down for the ride.”

Hancock considered her story carefully.  She was concerned that her admission would be enough to scare him off, and ordinarily she’d be right.  If it had been any other person, he’d take the opportunity to split; he didn’t deal well with other people’s baggage, and this was one hell of a load that she had on her shoulders.  But for some reason, he didn’t feel the impulse to run this time.  He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he actually wanted to help Rose in her quest to find her son.  It was potentially the first truly selfless notion he’d ever had.

“You think you’re gettin’ rid of me that easy?” he asked, nudging her shoulder with his own.  “I haven’t had this much fun in years.  No way I’m skippin’ out on you now.”

Any lingering doubts were shoved out of his mind by the smile that crossed her face.  “Good.”  She pushed herself to her feet and reached out to help him up.  “It’s getting dark; we should get some rest.  We’ll need an early start tomorrow… Preston’s gotten word of a nearby farm that needs some help, and I want to get to them as soon as I can.”

“See you bright and early then, Sunshine.”


	6. Assumptions and Reflections

Preston’s “nearby farm” ended up being Oberland Station, which was an entire day’s walk away from the Castle.  It was easy enough to find… just off the train tracks near the river, a tiny little plot of land owned by a young woman and her wife.   It was immediately apparent that they were being harassed by somebody; they trained rifles on Rose and Hancock the instant they came into view, though by the way they were carrying the guns Rose was fairly certain they didn’t have the ammo to load them with. 

“That’s close enough!” the bolder of the two women yelled.  “We don’t want any trouble!”

Rose held up her empty hands.  “It’s okay!” she called back.  “I’m with the Minutemen, heard you could use some help.”

“These broads look like they’ve seen better days,” Hancock said quietly, as he took in the ramshackle state of the small house and the struggling tato garden.  The women themselves weren’t much better off, dressed in threadbare clothes that had to be cold even in the gradually warming spring weather.  Rose hummed in agreement, her brow pinched with concern.  She knew that raiders preyed on the weak just like any other bullies, but these women didn’t look like they had anything worth taking to begin with.

Once the farmers were convinced that they weren’t coming to steal what was left of their possessions, Rose explained that the Minutemen had intercepted their call for help on the radio, and had sent her out their way.  They were grateful that someone was willing to step up, but more than a little skeptical at her ability to handle the problem.

“We appreciate you coming out and all, but this is a gang of at least twenty or so raiders,” the first woman- named Val- said, worry lines creasing her forehead and the corners of her eyes.  “They’re holed up pretty good in the old Corvega Assembly Plant down the road a ways.  It’d take more than just you and your husband to clear them out of there.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open, and she felt her cheeks immediately begin to burn.  Hancock laughed and wrapped his arms around her, turning her face towards his with mock affection.

“You hear that, sweetheart?  She doesn’t think we can handle it ourselves,” he teased.  Rose was temporarily speechless, so he looked over at Val and her wife and winked.  “She stole my heart the day she pulled me out of a deathclaw nest, you know.  Blew through them all like the fucking warrior goddess she is.  I married her on the spot.”

“You haven’t married me at all!” Rose growled, having found her tongue.  She squirmed out of his reach, blushing furiously.  “Don’t mind him, he’s just being an idiot.”

“I love it when you sweet-talk me like that, Sunshine.”

“Shut _up_!”  She threw an elbow back towards his gut, but he dodged and stepped a few feet away, still chuckling to himself.

Val looked about as embarrassed as Rose felt.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to assume… I just thought since you two were traveling together, and you’re wearing that ring…”

Rose reflexively covered the gold band on her finger; it was so much a part of her that she forgot it was still there sometimes.  “My husband was killed, almost a year ago.  Hancock and I are just friends.”

Val’s wife- a delicate-looking young woman named Lia- stepped forward, her eyes full of sorrow.  “I’m so sorry to hear that.  I can’t imagine what I would do if Val were taken away from me.”  Val gripped her hand as she spoke, and the look the two of them shared made Rose’s heart constrict.  She cleared her throat and dropped her eyes to the ground, suddenly wishing she were anywhere else.

“So how do we get to Corvega from here?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

The two women spent some time explaining how to find the Corvega Assembly Plant, and insisted on feeding the two travelers before they left, even though they didn’t have much to spare.  They tried to demand that they stay the night as well, so that they could be as well-rested as possible, but Rose needed to move.  Val and Lia were obviously very much in love- not even the strain of raider attacks and hard living had dampened their affection for each other.  Rose was happy to see how much they cared for each other, but she didn’t think she could spend the night watching them without breaking down.  She made a point of setting them up with whatever ammo she could spare before they left, though, along with some caps so they could replenish some of their stolen property when the next trading caravan came by.

She was quiet for a while as they followed the train tracks north towards Cambridge, lost in thought.  She didn’t want to admit it, but Val’s assumption that she and Hancock were a couple had flustered her for more reasons than one.  Rose hadn’t spent an overwhelming amount of time in a ghoul’s presence before walking into Goodneighbor… she had seen a few of them while visiting settlements with Preston, but they generally kept to themselves and weren’t clambering to meet newcomers, even if those newcomers were offering assistance.  Hancock was the first truly outgoing ghoul she had ever encountered.  He carried his mutation with confidence, welcoming attention where most ghouls would do their best to be invisible.  His infectious, roguish charm had been the main reason why she hadn’t just told him to go to hell after the Pickman fiasco.  And she hadn’t admitted it to him, but she was impressed by the ready mercy he showed after she helped blow the hell out of his storehouse.  It wasn’t a move she had been expecting from the gangster mayor of Goodneighbor.

And though she spent more than a couple of hours arguing with herself about it, Rose could feel herself starting to feel something quite a bit more than respect for the charismatic ghoul, too.  Part of why she had wriggled away from him so quickly when he had teasingly embraced her at the farm was because she had been afraid he’d notice how much her heart sped up when he touched her.  He excited her.

She wanted to deny it, because it felt on some level like a betrayal to Nate- it hadn’t even been a full year since his death- and also because Hancock was, well, a ghoul.  Most normal humans found them repulsive, even if they tolerated their existence, and many were afraid that prolonged contact with a ghoul could cause radiation poisoning.  She had certainly expected to be disgusted after everything that Preston and the other settlers had told her about them back in Sanctuary.  Despite all that, she caught herself sneaking looks at him when he wasn’t paying attention. 

Up close, his skin wasn’t rotting off his bones like she had been anticipating… it was more like the skin of a burn victim, scarred and textured, but not dead.  It clung tightly to the lines of his skull, emphasizing his angular cheekbones and jaw that had probably been less prominent when he had more flesh to boast.  She gotten accustomed to the sight of his missing nose and ears more quickly than she had thought possible, to the point where those features bothered her no more than those of any other human.  And she found that his black eyes, which had unsettled her at first, were often warmed with good humor or an unexpected kindness that showed up with increasing frequency outside of Goodneighbor.

She told herself that she was being stupid, that she was just on some sort of crazy grief-fueled rebound after the loss of her husband… but she hadn’t felt any attraction to Preston in spite of spending weeks at his side, and the morally sound, handsome, and self-sacrificing minuteman would have made a more logical choice for her heart to grab onto.  No, instead of that, she was catching herself slipping into fantasies about a ghoul she had known for barely a couple of weeks, who was openly a drug-dealing junkie gangster, who had no problem stabbing someone one minute, and putting his life on the line to help out a stranger in the next.

“Cap for your thoughts?” Hancock asked, flicking a bottlecap towards her and startling her out her contemplation.  “You’ve been awful quiet since we left Oberland.  You’re not pissed at me, are ya?”

Rose shook her head.  “Sorry.  I’ve got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“If that crack about being your husband got to you…”

“It didn’t.”  She offered him a small smile.  “Seriously.  I’m sort of surprised that no one’s made that assumption before now, actually.  Though Preston did ask me about us back at the Castle.”

Hancock smirked.  “Did he now?  Mr. Cowboy worried that the gangster might corrupt his sterling general?”

“Something like that.”

“So what’d you tell him?”

She gave him a wry sideways glance.  “I told him it was none of his fucking business, and that I can take care of myself.”

Hancock chuckled.  “’Atta girl.”


	7. Poor Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who read this when I first published it, I did change a few things to match Rose's personality a little more... she was a little too cutesy/girly in this scene when I first wrote it and that's not so much her style. So hopefully this works better and makes more sense n_n. Enjoy!

Of all the places to hole up for the night, an abandoned bar seemed the most appropriate after the day they’d had.  They had just gotten into Cambridge after leaving Oberland; they should have made it further north, but a few unexpected snags had eaten up a lot of time.  They had accidentally stumbled into an angry mirelurk nest while searching for a safe place to cross over the river… and once they had finally gotten on the other side, they were accosted by some kooks who tried to scam them into joining a cult and steal all of their stuff.  That had ended in a bloody mess.

Hancock pointed out the bar as the sun was beginning to go down, and (very) luckily it was empty, with no angry residents to deal with.  Rose managed to dig up a few old bottles of hard liquor after investigating around the premises… vodka and rum.  The lack of ice, mixers, and clean glasses was painful (in her opinion), but alcohol was still alcohol.  It didn’t pay to be picky in the wasteland.

“Why do you bother with all of that?” Hancock asked her, watching her root around in the cupboards and drawers for miscellaneous loot.  “It’s just more junk to carry.”

Rose harrumphed, head down below the bar counter.  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever had to construct a turret from spare parts, have you?  Ceramic and scrap metal don’t grow on trees, Mr. Mayor.”

Hancock chuckled.  “You’re somethin’ else, Sunshine.”

He leaned against the beat-up old counter, taking the moment to appreciate the curve of Rose’s ass as she rummaged around on her hands and knees.  She was oblivious, halfway inside the cupboards beneath the bar.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, and he jumped, thinking for a split second that she had somehow noticed his ogling.

“There’s a safe down here,” she said, backing out to shoot him a grin.  “See?  It pays to look around.”

“Maybe.  But the thing about safes is, they’re usually locked.  You got a key I don’t know about, doll?”

“Just give me a moment.” 

She pulled a bobby pin out of her pocket, and jimmied it around inside the lock for a few moments, her brow creased in concentration.  To Hancock’s shock, the lock clicked open after only a minute or two, and Rose swung the safe door open easily.

“Piece of cake,” she said, a hint of bragging to her tone.

“Nice work,” Hancock admitted, coming closer for a look.  “I like a girl who knows her way around a bobby pin.  What’d ya find?”

“A stash of caps… some ammo, thank _god_ …. and a gold pocket watch.  We can sell that, or dismantle it for parts.”

She stood up abruptly, the loot in her arms, and rocked back slightly when she realized how close Hancock was to her.  She tried not to blush as she skirted around him, throwing the items in her bag.  Looking to quiet her nerves, she grabbed the bottle of vodka she had found, and took a quick swig.  She coughed as the warm liquor went down her throat, the burning nail-polish-remover flavor making her eyes water.  What she wouldn’t pay for some ice…

Hancock laughed from behind her.  “Easy there, Sunshine.  I haven’t been known to behave myself around lightweights.”

Her cheeks flushed more at his teasing, and she lightly tossed the rum bottle to him.  “Put your money where your mouth is.  I grew up with an ex-military dad and was in college for eight years.  Lightweight, my ass.”

“What the hell did you go to school that long for?”

She rolled her eyes, taking another quick swig from her own bottle.  “I wanted to be a lawyer.  Fat lot of good that ended up doing me, huh?  All those sleepless nights…” She snorted to herself as she remembered.  “God, and the lame parties!  You would’ve hated it, Hancock.  The people at my school were so fucking uptight, I had to go to the next town over if I wanted to do more than sip bourbon and debate court cases.”

“Jesus,” Hancock chuckled.  “Gotta admit that it’s hard to imagine you in that kinda crowd.”

She laughed.  “It gets worse!  I went on a date once where the guy told me that he thought a woman’s place was in the home, cleaning and raising kids.”

“No kidding?  Tell me you at least knocked out a few of his teeth.”

She paused.  “Uh… no.  Actually, we dated for six months after that.”  Hancock groaned, and she scrambled to defend herself.  “You gotta understand, things were a _lot_ different before the war.  _I_ was a lot different.  That wasn’t an uncommon mindset for people to have… and I didn’t see myself having kids for a few years, at least.  I thought that’d be enough time to change his mind, if it came to that.”  She took another drink, thoughtful, and her eyes went glassy with the liquor.  “I wasn’t a very violent person at all, before I woke up here.  I mean, my father was military, and so was my husband, but women weren’t allowed on the front lines… and people were a lot more civilized.  You could get thrown in jail for brawling with someone, and put on death row for killing, unless it was clearly self-defense.”

“People got arrested just for fighting?” Hancock asked.  “Shit, just about everyone alive right now would be considered felons.”

She nodded, slightly unsteady on the stool she was perched on.  “And I ended up exactly the way I thought I hadn’t wanted… the obedient housewife, running the house and taking care of Shaun while my husband worked.”  Her eyes went soft.  “I didn’t mind that part… raising Shaun.  He was the best thing that ever happened to me.  But I would have regretted giving up my career, sooner or later.”

“Why’d you do it?”

She shrugged.  “Nate and I had been seeing each other for about a year, and one night we weren’t as careful as we should have been.  I got knocked up.  And in those times, you _did not_ get pregnant out of wedlock.  So we got married, and somewhere between that and Shaun’s birth, it just… happened.  Nate kept working, and I didn’t feel like I could leave my newborn at home.  Even if Codsworth was there to help.”

“Codsworth?”

“My robot butler.  He survived, actually.  He’s back in Sanctuary right now.”

“You have a robot butler?”  He shook his head.  “I don’t think most people can even imagine having that kinda life, let alone what it must be like to lose it.  Fate must have some kind of grudge against you, doll.”

“You do what you have to survive,” she replied, and a bit of a mischievous grin appeared on her lips.  “Besides, not everything about this place is so bad.  Wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you, if I had stayed in my own time.”

 _Did I just hear that right?_ Hancock thought, glancing at her.  Rose determinedly avoided his gaze, eyes fixed on the darkness outside the broken windows as her buzzed glow colored the curve of her cheekbone.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Hancock?” she asked, to change the subject somewhat.  “I feel like I’ve been doing nothing but spilling out my life story, but I don’t really know that much about you.”

“That’s my favorite subject,” he joked.  “What do you wanna know?”

“How did you become Mayor of Goodneighbor?”

“That’s a story.  Some ass named Vic used to run the place for I don’t know how long… real piece of work.  Guy was scum, used us drifters like his own personal piggy bank.  Had this goon squad he’d use to keep people in line… and every so often he’d let ‘em off the leash to go blow off steam on the populace at large.”  He took a swig of rum, grimacing at the memory.  “People with homes could lock their doors, but us drifters got it bad.  One night, some drifter stood up to them, said something.  I can’t remember exactly what.”  His voice lowered, and his gaze seemed to turn inward, reliving some memory.  “They cracked him open like a can of cram on the pavement.  And we all just stood there, did nothing.”

Rose stared at him wide-eyed, suddenly somber.  “There wasn’t anything you could have done.  Not unless you wanted to end up the same way.”

Hancock snorted.  “Maybe.  Afterwards, I felt like less than nothing.  Got so high that I blacked out completely… for a few hours or days, it was hard to tell.  When I finally came to, I was on the floor in the Old State House, looking up at the clothes of old John Hancock.”  He chuckled.  “John Hancock, first American hoodlum and defender of the people.  I might’ve still been high, but those clothes spoke to me, told me what I needed to do.  I smashed the case, put them on, and started a new life.  As Hancock.”

“So that’s where the name comes from,” Rose said, a touch of a smile on her face.  “What happened then?”

Hancock shrugged.  “Went clean for a bit, got organized, convinced KLEO to loan me some hardware.  Got a crew of drifters together and headed out into the ruins, started training.  Next time Vic’s boys went on a tear, we’d be ready.”

“I don’t imagine they survived that.”

He shook his head.  “Not a one.  Night of, we all got loaded, let Vic’s guys get good and hammered… and then we jumped down from the windows and rooftops where we had been hiding.  They never saw it coming.  We didn’t have to fire a shot… didn’t _have_ to, but we sure fucking did.  It was a massacre.”

“Sounds like they got what they deserved.”

Hancock nodded.  “After we mopped up, we strolled right into Vic’s quarters in the state house, wrapped a rope around his neck, and threw him off the balcony.  And there I am, gun in hand, draped in Hancock’s duds, lookin’ down at all the people of Goodneighbor.  I don’t even know where the words came from… First time I said ‘em, they didn’t even feel like my words.  ’Of the people, for the people!’  That was my inaugural address.  Became Mayor Hancock that day.  And I vowed from that day on to never just stand by and watch.  Ever again.”

“Is that why you agreed to come with me?” Rose asked, head cocked.

Hancock shrugged.  “Maybe.  I ain’t really the ponderous type; when an instinct takes hold, I listen.  And my instinct told me to head out with you.  Seems like a pretty good one, I think.”

“I agree.”  Rose took another drink; the harsh burn in her throat quieted down to a warm glow.  The outlines of her vision started to get blurry, and she felt good- probably _too_ good, but it was a little late to stop now.  She was intensely aware of Hancock’s eyes on her; it made her nerves tingle in a way that was completely unrelated to the alcohol.

Hancock tipped his hat back, taking in the rest of the wrecked bar as he leaned against the counter.  “You know, this place reminds me of a pretty good joke I heard once.  A ghoul walks into bar… bartender says ‘we don’t serve ghouls here.’  So the ghoul says, ‘That’s fine; is the human fresh?’”

Rose stared at him for a moment, and then burst into laughter, doubling over on her stool.

“Oh my god!  Hancock, that’s _terrible_!”

He started laughing too, though probably more at her reaction than anything else.  Rose clutched her stomach, tears in her eyes from giggling so hard.  The wobbly bar stool made her lose her balance and she slipped off; she would’ve hit the floor if Hancock hadn’t reacted and grabbed her.  He pulled her back to her feet while she continued to giggle- now at her own clumsiness- and kept his arms around her waist, steadying her so she wouldn’t drop again.

“Careful there, Wobbles; let’s not add a head injury to our list of grievances for today,” he warned good-humoredly.  “I think someone might’ve hit their limit.”

Rose tilted her head back, a genuine smile on her face as she caught her breath.  “A joke about cannibalism and I think it’s funny.  If I wasn’t going to hell before…”  She looked back at him, eyes twinkling, and draped her arms around his shoulders.  “Thank you for that, Hancock.  I don’t think I’ve _really_ laughed since I woke up here.  I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

“If it gets you to smile like that every time, then there’s plenty more where that came from, Sunshine.”

Rose tilted her head.  “You like my smile?”

She felt his arms tighten around her at the question, and her heart just about leapt up into her throat.

“I wouldn’t say no to seein’ it more often.”

Rose searched his eyes as he spoke.  Even in her drunken state, she could see their guarded expression; there was something else in there too, something that tautened the muscles in her stomach and made her pulse race.  An impulse seized her, and before she had given herself time to think about it, she tightened her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

Her first thought was one of pleased surprise; she hadn’t really known what to expect, but she liked the sensation of his scarred lips against hers.  It was so different from the firm smoothness of Nate’s mouth.  Hancock was more than a little stunned, and for a moment he didn’t react… it tickled Rose considerably that she had taken someone with such confidence off guard.

Undeterred, she lightly pushed him back into the counter and pressed herself more tightly against him, matching her chest and hips with his own.  She bit down gently on his lower lip, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and was delighted when he finally acquiesced.  His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and she shivered as he filled her with the taste of rum, smoke, and the tang of mentats.  One of his hands had moved to tangle in her hair, cradling her face against his.  It had felt like a lifetime since someone had touched her like this, had held her in a way that wasn’t just survival, and she was suddenly starving for more. 

She boldly slipped her hands beneath the heavy fabric of his coat and pushed it off his shoulders, before reaching to undo the flag around his waist.  But then she felt Hancock’s fingers wrap around her wrists, catching her and carefully easing her hands away.

“Whoa, easy there, Sunshine,” he said gently, leaning back to look at her with a faint frown.  “I’m gonna hate myself for sayin’ this, but let’s not do something you’ll regret later, huh?  No need to rush.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly and she blinked at him in surprise.  He was saying no?  He was rejecting her? 

Embarrassment, followed closely by shame, burned through her, and she immediately stepped away, hand to her head.  She was normally so good at reading people… had she really misread the situation that badly?  Her pleasant buzz was gone in an instant, replaced only by a thick tiredness and a dizzy head.  _Am I really that stupid?_

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” she murmured, mortified.  She couldn’t meet his dark eyes, and hated herself for the tears that began to brim there.  “I don’t know what I…  I was just...  I should probably just get some sleep.”

“Rose, wait!” Hancock said, but she was already gone, fleeing up the stairs to the second floor where she could nurse her humiliation and hurt ego in peace.  He didn’t follow her, and she was glad for that.

* * *

**(Hancock)**

_I oughta get her to drink more often_ , Hancock thought to himself as he steadied Rose in his arms.  She’d definitely had more vodka than she should’ve, but it was the first time he had heard her truly laugh.  It was infectious.  And so was that smile… for once there wasn’t a trace of worry, anger, or grief marring those beautiful features.

She had relaxed into his embrace, comfortably using him for balance as she continued to giggle at his dumb joke.  “A joke about cannibalism and I think it’s funny,” she said, when she finally caught her breath.  “If I wasn’t going to hell before…”  She looked up at him, meeting his black eyes with her sparkling green ones.  “Thank you for that, Hancock.  I don’t think I’ve _really_ laughed since I woke up here.  I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

Her words jolted through him, but he played it cool; he’d been fantasizing about having her this close ever since she walked through the doors in Goodneighbor, and he wasn’t about to mess it up by being an idiot now.  It was a nice feeling… more than nice, actually.  She was soft, and the bare skin of her arms where her sleeves were rolled up was the smoothest he had ever felt, ghoul or otherwise.  He couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to touch _all_ of that smooth skin, all over every inch of her body… what it would be like to memorize the shape of her curves beneath his hands.

But not like this.  She was drunk and vulnerable, and he was nowhere near buzzed enough to make excuses for himself.  It wouldn’t be right.

“If it gets you to smile like that every time, then there’s plenty more where that came from, Sunshine,” he replied, careful to keep his tone friendly.

She tilted her head as he spoke, and he suddenly had the feeling that she could read his mind, even being drunk off her ass like she was.  “You like my smile?”

At that, he felt his pulse jump.  That was a dangerous question.  If he was too eager, he’d be hitting on her; too dismissive, and he’d come off as an asshole and hurt her feelings.

After a moment of consideration, he tried to go for neutrality.  “I wouldn’t say no to seein’ it more often.”

She watched him silently for a second or two, and for a heartbeat he worried if he’d said the wrong thing.  He was just about to take it back, brush it off as a joke, when her hands pulled at his neck and suddenly her mouth was against his.

The touch of her lips against his was electric… like he’d walked into a tesla arc but in a very, _very_ good way.  He froze, convinced that she hadn’t meant to do it.  But then she giggled with that fucking adorable little laugh she had, and bit down on his lip, just hard enough to hurt slightly. 

That was his undoing; he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back, relishing the feel of her chest and hips pressed against his.  She had backed him up against the counter, and he could feel his nerve endings going haywire everywhere her skin caressed his.  God, he had been imagining doing this for so long now… and she tasted just like he thought she would.  Sweet and pure, untainted by the hard life of the wasteland.

He reached up to run his fingers through her auburn hair before cradling the base of her skull, keeping her face tilted towards his as he savored the texture of her tongue and lips and teeth.  The pressure of her mouth on his grew more urgent, and she clung to him tightly, her hands moving to take off his coat.  It was more than obvious what her intention was, and Hancock groaned inwardly as he felt himself stop her.  _What are you doing, you idiot?_

If it had been anyone else, he would have rolled with it; god knows he had been a part of more than a couple ill-advised one-night-stands, and damn if her boldness wasn’t the sexiest thing he had seen from a woman in a long time.  But Rose was different; he actually cared about this chick, and he didn’t want to do something that might fuck up what they already had going.  Especially knowing what he did about her past; something like that would make anyone confused about what they wanted.  He just couldn’t take advantage of her like that.

“Whoa, easy there, Sunshine,” he said, holding each of her hands in his and nudging her back.  “I’m gonna hate myself for sayin’ this, but let’s not do something you’ll regret later, huh?”

The effect was pretty much what he had expected.  He watched as shock came over her face, followed very quickly by the sting of rejection.  He frowned as her cheeks reddened and she backed away, head down and arm around her ribs like she was protecting herself, or like she had been slugged.  _Shit._

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” she said.  Before he could correct her, she continued, “I don’t know what I… I was just… I should probably just get some sleep.”

She turned and ran for the stairs, stumbling once or twice in her haste.

“Rose, wait!” Hancock called after her, but she didn’t look back, and he knew better than to follow her.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. _You are a stupid fucking jackass_.  He grabbed what was left of the rum and pulled some Jet out of his pocket, moving to stretch out in one of the intact booths.  He tried to be a good person, and he fucked it up.  God, he sucked at these things.  She’d probably send his ass packing when she woke up; not that he’d blame her.  Well, at least he could stand guard until then.  Back in Goodneighbor he might have just lit out, but he wasn’t about to leave her drunk and unprotected in the middle of Cambridge.

Women made things so damn complicated.


	8. Brotherhood Bother

**(Rose)**

The sun was just coming up over the horizon when Rose woke; she never could sleep very long when she’d been drinking.  As soon as the alcohol ran its course through her liver, she was up.

She groaned, feeling like a railroad spike had been wedged through her head in the middle of the night.  Every inch of her body reminded her that she was nearly 30, not the spry 20-year-old who could party all night and bounce back for classes the next day with a bottle of water and a few cups of coffee.  The fact that she had already been dehydrated from having a limited water supply just exacerbated matters.  _Should’ve thought of that before you decided to down half a bottle of vodka._  

She forced herself up to a sitting position, trying not to retch as the movement tossed her stomach, and downed a carton of purified water. In her current condition, the warm, stale water tasted as refreshing as the Fountain of Youth itself.  She caught her reflection in a nearby window and winced; her hair was a wild rat’s nest, and her tears from the night before had left clean streaks down her cheeks.

 _Shit._ She rubbed at her face, trying to hide the evidence of her hurt emotions.  She still couldn’t believe that she had kissed Hancock.  She had been a widow for barely eight months, if even!  Her marriage with Nate hadn’t been perfect, but didn’t she owe him more than that?  And the fact that she had felt so crushed when he had pulled away killed her.  What exactly did she expect?  They barely knew each other.  Hancock could even be repulsed by regular humans, for all she knew.  He had flirted with her here and there, teasing, but he had never made a serious pass at her.  God, she was an idiot.

She sat against the wall for a few minutes, nursing her headache and debating whether she actually had to go downstairs to face him, or if she could manage to jump out the window without breaking her legs.  Maybe he hadn’t stuck around; maybe he’d been so put off by what happened that he decided to bail.  It wouldn’t surprise her.  After all, she was thinking about doing the same thing.

At length she decided that her tibias were more important than her pride, and she slowly came down the stairs, the blankets that made up her makeshift bed under her arm.  She felt a mixture of relief and queasy dread when she spotted Hancock lounging in one of the booths.  He was clearly still asleep, with his hat pulled over his eyes and his shotgun resting within easy reach.

To procrastinate on waking him, she readied her pack and his to leave, and flicked on her Pip Boy to check their location.  It glowed to life with a low hum, and immediately began to beep.  She cursed and switched the volume off; the damn beeps were like little hammers whacking away in her skull.

“Feelin’ that good this morning, eh, Sunshine?”

“Fuck!” Rose yelped, whipping around and nearly falling on her ass.  She clutched at her heart and glared at Hancock, who had noiselessly gotten up and was watching her with a mixture of amusement and trepidation.

“Damn it, Hancock, you scared me,” she complained, her voice coming out in a sharper growl than she intended.  She took a couple deep breaths to control her heart rate, and sighed.  “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Apologies,” he replied, though the little smirk on his face took away some of his sincerity.  “Seriously though, how’s the head?  You almost drank through that entire bottle last night.”

She grimaced.  “Yeah, about that-”

“Here,” he interrupted, handing her a vial of Med-X.  “About a quarter shot of that should kill the pounding in your head.  Got nothing for the shakes, but those should wear off soon as we get movin’.”

He was avoiding talking about her misguided attempt at seduction, and Rose was just fine with that.  She’d just as soon forget it ever happened.

“Thanks.”  She accepted the syringe gratefully, and- after pouring a little alcohol over the needle and her arm to sanitize them- pushed a couple milliliters of the drug into her veins.  The effect was almost immediate:  her headache slipped away, and the rest of her body’s complaints dulled to quiet aches.  It was nothing compared to being properly fed and hydrated, but that could be taken care of later.

“So what’s with the Pip Boy?” Hancock inquired, indicating the gently pulsing screen.  It blinked in time with the (now silent) beeps.

“It says that it’s a distress call,” Rose said, checking the radio input screen.  “Must not be far from here if we’re picking it up.”

“We goin’ after it?”

Rose sighed, and nodded.  “Yep.  If someone’s calling for help, I gotta answer.  Makes me feel like I’m the Batman of the Commonwealth.”

Hancock’s brow creased.  “Who in the hell is Batman?”        

“Uh… old comic book character.  Orphaned billionaire vigilante, lurked around the city at night using fancy gadgets and general badassery to bring criminals to justice.”

Hancock snorted.  “I guess that does sort of sound like you.  Minus the billionaire part, unless you’ve been holdin’ out on me this whole time.”

“I wish.  Now let’s see if we can figure out where this signal is coming from.”

* * *

It wasn’t long before it the distress signal’s origin became apparent.  The duo followed the sounds of gunshots and screams, eventually coming up on the old Cambridge police station.  The trouble was immediately obvious:  feral ghouls were swarming a makeshift blockade from nearly every side, and there were a lot of them. 

Rose didn’t hesitate.  She pulled out her shotgun and dove into the fray, firing at the two ghouls nearest to her.  They fell, but were quickly replaced by more, drawn to her by the sound of the gun.  She sensed more than saw Hancock by her side as they battled their way inward, slipping through the blockade to bottleneck the ferals.  Another man was behind them, backed up against the steps to the building.  He wore a suit of power armor, but Rose knew that even with that, he wouldn’t have been able to fight off all of the feral ghouls alone.

The quick observation cost her; a ghoul had made it up to her side without her noticing, and it swung at her face with a blood-curdling shriek.  Rose screamed as she felt her skin split open on her forehead; the cut burned like fire, probably due to the rads the ghoul was infected with.  Hancock heard her scream and turned towards her, but she frantically shook her head.

“No, no, I’m fine!” she yelled at him over the noise of the battle.  “Watch out!”

Two more ferals were charging them.  She pushed him out of the way and fired, catching one square in the chest.  The second was hit by a shot from the power-armor-clad man.

She could hear more shrieks in the distance.  An idea struck her, and she fumbled through her pack.  She grinned as her hand wrapped around the small metal oval; she yanked the grenade out, running out to the opening of the blockade.

“Rose, where the hell are you going?” Hancock yelled, but she didn’t stop to reply.  She could see the group of ferals making their way down the street, climbing over abandoned cars and each other in their haste and bloodlust.  It was a scene straight out of a zombie flick.  She took a single second to pray for the blessing of good aim, pulled the pin, and tossed the frag.

It bounced and landed just ahead of the pack.  The ferals paid it no mind and ran over it; it exploded just as the bulk of them reached its radius.  _Yes!_

Rose ducked as bodies, blood, and severed limbs were thrown forward against the blockade, her ears ringing from the blast.  An almost preternatural silence followed, heralding the end of the fight and the absence of any more ferals.

“Jesus!” Hancock crowed, appearing by her shoulder and helping her to her feet.  “Warn me next time you’re gonna try something stupid, will ya?  I thought you’d snapped and I’d be fightin’ the ferals for your corpse.”

Rose grinned, full of heady adrenaline.  “If I ever decide to commit suicide by feral ghoul, you’ll be the first person I’ll notify.”

Hancock rolled his eyes.  “Fuck.  You’re crazy, doll.  And coming from me, that’s sayin’ something.”

By then the man in power armor had walked up to them, gun still cautiously in hand.

“Looks like that’s the last of them,” he said, his voice given an odd metallic quality through the speakers of his suit.  To Rose, he said, “Thanks for the assist, civilian.  That was some damn good fighting back there.”

Rose waved her hand dismissively and smiled.  “We heard your distress beacon, and figured you could use the help.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” he said, reaching out to shake Rose’s hand.  “I’m Paladin Danse, with the Brotherhood of Steel.”

Hancock snorted derisively.  “The brotherhood of scumbags, more like.  You ready to get out of here, Sunshine?”

Rose frowned at her friend, unsure of what was causing his sudden hostility, but the soldier wheeled on him before she had a chance to comment.

“Back off, degenerate.  It’s nothing to me to put down one more filthy ghoul.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, crew cut.  You ain’t my type.”

“Boys!” Rose exclaimed, stepping in between the two.  “What in the hell has gotten into you?”

“You really shouldn’t be walking around with a freak like that, ma’am,” Danse said.  “He’d slit your throat soon as look at you.  They can’t be trusted.”

“What?” Rose asked in disbelief, pressing lightly on Hancock’s chest to hold him back.  “Where the hell is that coming from?”

“It’s common knowledge that ghouls are dangerous; you saw the pack that just tried to make a meal out of us, didn’t you?”

“What the fuck…” Hancock growled.  “You listen here, you glorified fucking tin can-”

“Hold it,” Rose said firmly, eyes narrowed.  She rounded on Danse.  “For your information, Paladin, what we just fought were _feral_ ghouls.  Hancock is just as sane as you or I, and he’s covered my six for the past two weeks.  He’s had more than enough opportunities to kill me if he wanted to.  Not to mention the fact that he just helped save your ass!”

“I’m sure it was more of a desire to save his own skin,” Danse retorted.  “What little there is left of it.”

Rose groaned with frustration.  She knew that many people in the Commonwealth distrusted ghouls, but this was ridiculous!

“You should stay here,” Danse continued, seemingly oblivious to her dismay.  “The station is defendable, and the Brotherhood could use someone like you on our team.  We have the medical supplies to treat that gash on your forehead too.”  He glanced from her to Hancock, and added, “If that ghoul’s been holding you against your will, now is the time to say so.”

Hancock laughed bitterly.  “Me, kidnap her?  Are you high?”

“No, but I’m sure you are, filth.”

“Will you lay off the insults!” Rose exclaimed.  “ _Fuck_.  Paladin, let’s get one thing straight:  I _asked_ Hancock to come with me, he did not abduct me- _pretty_ fucking sure he wouldn’t let me walk around with a shotgun if he had.  We responded to your distress call because we were in the area, and the _least_ you could do is show a little goddamn gratitude and decorum!”  Danse opened his mouth to respond, and she cut him off.  “No, I don’t want to hear another fucking prejudiced, ignorant word come out of your mouth, Paladin.  If the rest of this Brotherhood is as bad as you, then no wonder Hancock is so pissed.  This _ghoul_ is one of the kindest people I’ve met in this godforsaken wasteland, and I don’t care if you’re wearing power armor; you say one more fucking word against him, and I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Both men stared at her, stunned.  She was a little surprised at her own audacity herself, but the fucking asshole soldier needed to be put in line.  There were too few genuinely good people left in the world to get hung up on _racism_ , of all things.

“Then I guess I have nothing more to say,” Danse said at length, turning back towards the station.

Rose made a displeased noise in her throat, and grabbed Hancock by the arm, practically yanking him in the opposite direction.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she said, bringing up her Pip Boy and getting a new read on their location.  “Fucking ignorant piece of shit.  Should have let him get mauled by those ferals.”  She rummaged quickly in her bag for a stimpak and a dose of RadAway… the cut on her head was on fire, and it was doing nothing to help her mood.

“Let me help you with that,” Hancock said, stopping and taking the stimpak from her.

She stood appropriately still while he expertly inserted the needle near her temple, wincing as the medicine flowed under her skin.  She didn’t have a mirror to look, but she could tell that the wound was big enough to scar, even with the stimpak.  Vanity didn’t have much of a place post-apocalypse. 

Hancock used about half of the stim on her, and plunged the rest into his arm.  She noticed the dark stain on his sleeve; he must have gotten hit when she ran up to toss her grenade.  Doctoring finished, he pulled a tin of mentats out of his pocket to pop a couple in his mouth.  He proffered the tin to her, and she accepted a dose herself; she was getting worn out, and would need to be alert for the rest of their travels.         

Once they were back on their way, Hancock asked, “Did you really mean all of that, back there?”

She glanced up from the screen of her Pip Boy to see Hancock watching her with an odd expression.  “What I said to Danse?  Yeah, of course I did.  That guy was a dick; I understand why you can’t stand them.  The Brotherhood, I mean.” 

“You think I’m kind?”

She paused, noting the almost embarrassed tone in his voice.  “Of course I do, Hancock,” she said, her voice softening.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say that’s not usually the first thing that comes to mind.”

Rose crossed her arms.  “Well let’s see… we’ve known each other for about two weeks now, give or take.  In that time, you helped me with Finn, without even knowing who I was, and you showed me mercy when I got tangled up with Bobbi, when you could have easily have Fahrenheit kill or maim me.”

“Can’t lie, both of those were entirely in my own self-interest.”

Rose’s mouth hitched up slightly, but she ignored him and continued.  “You stood up and helped your people when no one else was willing to.  You’ve had my back in every fight we’ve landed in since we left your town and are out here literally risking your life to help me, even though you owe me absolutely nothing.  You’ve accepted my past and all of the fucked things it’s done to me… is still doing to me.”  She could feel her cheeks burn scarlet, and shifted her gaze away to the side of the road.  “You were even gracious enough to not be an ass when I drunkenly kissed you last night.”

“About that-”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re a dangerous motherfucker,” Rose continued quickly, talking over him.  “I’d hate to _ever_ get on your bad side.  But I’ve known so many people who pride themselves on being ‘good’ and have been just complete, _total_ assholes.”  She sighed, dropping her head into her palms.  “Fuck.  I’m rambling.  What I mean is that yes, Hancock.  I do think you are a kind person.”

“Damn,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I’ve been called a lot of things, but I don’t think anyone’s ever said that about me before.”

“Well, I call it as I see it.”

They walked together in silence for a few moments.  The police station was out of sight before Hancock spoke again, pulling Rose to a stop.

“Listen, Rose,” he said.  “About last night-”

She shook her head.  “No, Hancock, you really don’t have to-”

“Let me finish,” he said firmly, and she shut up.  “Look, when you kissed me…  I don’t want you to think that I stopped you because I didn’t want to keep going.  Trust me… there is a very dishonorable part of me that was furious when I told you to stop.”   He grinned roguishly, and she couldn’t help but return it.

“You’re beautiful, and damn sexy,” he continued.  “I doubt there’s a man in the Commonwealth that wouldn’t jump at the chance to misbehave with you.  And ordinarily I’m not too scrupulous about drunken one night stands.  But it just… it would’ve felt like taking advantage of you, I guess, and I didn’t want that.”  He paused, and then added, “Not to mention that it’s a little hard to believe that someone like you would go for a ghoul, even one as charismatic as me.”

“Why, because you’re scarred?” Rose asked.  “If all I cared about was how someone looked, I’d have taken up Soldier Dick back there on his offer.  Bet he’s _real_ cute underneath all that metal.”

Hancock groaned.  “God, don’t say that.”

“Besides,” her voice lowered to a mutter as she was seized by an uncharacteristic bashfulness, “I like the way you look.  You’re you.  It would be weird if you looked any different.”  She met his gaze again, expression suddenly fierce.  “And sorry, but you don’t really get a say in who I am or am not attracted to, so if you’re going to stick around, you might as well get used to the idea.”

“Well, look at you,” Hancock replied, cocking his head and flashing her a prurient grin.  “Guess I’m not the only one who’s been dealing with more impure thoughts than usual.  Maybe later we’ll get another chance to… act on those.”  He chuckled, and slung an arm around her shoulders.  “We better get moving for now, though.  Still got a bunch of raiders who need to be a taught a lesson.”


	9. The Slog

“The Slog?  Not the most encouraging name I’ve ever heard.  Makes me feel tired.”

“Slog:  to work hard over a long period of time,” Rose replied idly, as the abandoned rec center loomed up in front of them.  “Also to hit someone forcefully and repeatedly, by the way.”

“I like that second one more.”

Rose rolled her eyes, but was quick to hitch a smile onto her face as she spotted settlers coming out to meet them.  Only a couple of them carried rifles, and even then they held them loosely at their sides.  All of them were ghouls.

“You know, I think I heard about this place once,” Hancock mused.  “A farm run entirely by ghouls… similar idea to Goodneighbor, but probably with a little less violence.”

“I know that voice,” the foremost ghoul said as he walked up to them.  He squinted at Hancock.  “John McDonough?  Is that you?”

Hancock brightened immediately.  “Wiseman?”  He reached out to the shake the man’s hand and pulled him into a one-armed hug.  “Shit, it’s been how many years?  Last time I saw you I was still wasting away in Diamond City.  Thought you were dead, brother.”

The ghoul gave a dry laugh.  “No, the Commonwealth hasn’t claimed me yet.  Though you’re looking a little worse for wear… heard you went ghoul a few years back, but I thought it was just rumors.”

“Decided it was time for a new look.”  He released Wiseman and stepped back.  “The name’s Hancock now, by the way… haven’t been McDonough in a long time.”

Wiseman snorted.  “Don’t blame you.”  His black eyes slid over to Rose, as though noticing her for the first time.  “And who’s this?”

“The name’s Rose; I’m with the Minutemen,” she explained.  “The folks over at Tenpines Bluff sent word to us that you might be interested in joining up.”

“Did they, now?”  Wiseman crossed his arms and smiled.  “Well, why don’t you two come inside and you can tell me more about it?”

He led them in through the fence, waving at the others to let them know everything was okay.  Rose cocked her head as she got close enough to see inside the swimming pool; it was filled with tarberry plants, as well as a couple of settlers who were busy tending to them.

“Tarberries?” she asked curiously.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone who’s managed to grow them before.”

“You like it?” Wiseman asked proudly.  “Best tarberries in the Commonwealth, right here.”

“That’s pretty ingenious, actually,” Hancock commented in admiration.  “Bet you guys corner the market on Berry Mentats too.”

Wiseman winked.  “I was wonderin’ when you were gonna ask me about that.”

Wiseman proceeded to give them a brief tour, and explained his plans to make the Slog more than just a refuge for outcast ghouls; he wanted it to be a destination open to everyone in the Commonwealth.  Rose was enthusiastic about the idea, and before the sun had set they had mapped out plans to connect the Slog to the minutemen’s trade lines.  He and Hancock continued to talk long after that, catching up on the on the past few years.  Rose gathered from their conversation that Wiseman had been a friend of Hancock’s back when he was still a regular human living in Diamond City; when McDonough began his anti-ghoul campaign to win the vote for mayor, Wiseman cut out of the city, having had the foresight to anticipate the mob that followed.

The visit went on long enough that Wiseman insisted they stay the night, to which Rose and Hancock both readily agreed.

“We’ve got enough spare beds to go around,” Wiseman explained amiably, when they all began to yawn more frequently than they talked.  “Men in the room on the left, women on the right.  Not that I’d have any qualms about you two sharin’ a bed if you wanted,” he added, when Hancock gave him an arch look, “but there ain’t a whole lotta privacy to be had here, if you catch my drift.”

“Separate beds are fine,” Rose replied, a little too quickly.  “Thank you for your hospitality, Wiseman.”

“My pleasure, Ms. General.”

* * *

It was past midnight when Hancock finally gave up on sleeping.  He stepped quietly outside into the chilly early morning air, intending to smoke a cigarette and then see how many hits of Jet it would take to finally make him drowsy enough to doze off.  He blinked in surprise when he saw a figure lying stretched out on the concrete in front of the rec building.  For a moment he thought that perhaps one of the settlers had hit the bottle a little too hard and had passed out before making it inside, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark he saw that it was Rose, reclined on her back with her eyes fixed on the night sky.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here like that,” he informed her as he took a seat next to her on the ground.

“I’m okay.”  She paused in her study of the constellations to glance over at him.  “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“Wiseman snores like a drunken supermutant.”  He grinned when she giggled.  “So what’re doing lyin’ out here on the ground?  Playing at being deathclaw bait?”

She pushed herself upright, shaking the dust and gravel out of her hair.  “I was feeling homesick,” she confessed, rubbing her arms.  “So I wanted to come look at the stars.  They’re the only things that are still the same.”  She looked back up, and the sky reflected in her wide eyes.  “I thought, if I concentrate hard enough, it could almost feel like I had never left my own time at all.”

“Huh.  That’s pretty deep, sister.”  He took a hit off of one of the Jet canisters in his coat pocket, and tucked it back away when Rose declined.

“Just wishful thinking, actually.”

She had tucked her arms in tightly around her middle, and was beginning to shiver as the cold air bit through her clothes.  Hancock watched her fight it for a moment before he couldn’t stand it anymore; he rolled his eyes and grabbed her underneath her arms, dragging her over against his chest.

“Hey!”

“What, you don’t like cuddling?” he asked impishly.  “You’re shakin’ like a junkie in detox, doll.  There’s no sense in freezin’ that cute little ass off.”

Rose wanted to object, but found that her complaints died on her lips as he pulled her back against him and pulled his coat over her arms.  He radiated warmth like a space heater, so much so that she stopped shivering within seconds.  She hadn’t noticed before… though the only other time she had been this close to him was when she had been drunk, so it was no surprise that her observational skills hadn’t been at their peak.

“We ghouls run a little hotter than normal humans,” he explained.  “Probably a side-effect of all those rads.”

“Never cold, high tolerance to chems, no negative effects from radiation, all but immortal… is there anything ghouls _can’t_ do?” she asked, amused.

“Win a beauty contest.  That’s about it.”

She gave him a small reproachful shove, but smiled all the same.  His hands were resting just on top of hers, and his thumb had begun to idly caress the skin on the inside of her wrist as they talked; she knew he could likely feel her heart galloping along like a racehorse through the vein there.  She could feel his own heartbeat against her back, strong and steady… and maybe just a _little_ too fast.

She tilted her head back to look at him, but whatever question she had been meaning to ask was cut off when his lips covered hers.  Her breath came in a gasp, surprise quickly giving way to that same yearning she had felt in the bar.  Her back arched against him and she reached up to pull him closer; instead of the liquor, adrenaline pulsed through her, and it was nearly as heady of a feeling. 

In the absence of his previous hesitation and surprise, Hancock was truly a skilled kisser; he claimed her mouth possessively, confidently.  He cupped one hand around her throat, his rough fingers stroking her skin.  His other hand slipped beneath her arm to trace across her ribcage.  He followed the lines there for a moment, briefly exploring the topography of her waist and the curve of her breast, and then he dropped his hand down to caress between her legs.

At that, Rose felt her muscles lock up.  His touch had been questioning, not demanding, and he pulled away the instant he felt her freeze.

“You okay, Sunshine?” he asked, brow drawn in concern.

She gave tiny shake of her head and bit down on her lip.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I-”

He brushed her hair back from her eyes.  “Hey, it’s okay if you’re not ready for that yet.”  She tried to turn away, embarrassed, but he wouldn’t allow it.  “I’m never gonna push you to do anything you don’t wanna do, you feel me?  I ain’t that kinda guy.”

She pulled her knees up, hiding her face on her arms.  “Fuck.  You must think I’m a tease.”

“I think you’re a woman who’s made more than one trip to hell and back,” he replied patiently.  “You’d be superhuman if that didn’t mess with your mind just a little.”

She fidgeted, worrying the frayed hems of her sleeves.  “It’s just that no one but Nate has touched me like that in years.  I wasn’t really expecting for it to affect me… that way.”

 His fingers brushed her cheek before his hand settled against her back.  “You don’t gotta explain anything to me.  I’m along for the ride no matter what.”  When she looked up at him, he winked.  “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years.  And that includes the time I got high and broke into my brother’s office to set a pack of molerats loose.”

Rose couldn’t help but laugh.  “You did not.”

“You could hear his secretary scream all the way down at the State House.  Though I think my brother probably screamed louder.”

“John Hancock, you are absolutely awful.”

He shrugged in fake modesty.  “I do what I can.”

Rose shook her head, and then reached up to kiss his scarred cheek. 

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.  She rested her head against his shoulder; with the adrenaline gone, she could feel her eyelids finally growing heavy.  “No matter what happens… I’m really glad that your instincts told you to come out here with me, Hancock.”

“Anything for you, Sunshine.”


	10. Consequences

**(Rose)**

“Are you sure the prototype we need is in there?” Hancock asked, looking at the dilapidated old factory doubtfully.

With the recruitment of the Slog having been a success, Rose and Hancock had found themselves on yet another mission to help out the denizens of the Commonwealth.  The robots down in Graygarden were in desperate need of some kind of prototype circuit board, which would supposedly improve the functioning of their automated defense systems, as well as allow them to integrate new robots into their protocols.  According to Supervisor White, the prototype was in Dr. Gray’s office in the old Robco building.  Reluctant to leave their farm and afraid of Gunners that were rumored to inhabit the area, she had radioed their request in to the Castle, and had asked for Rose specifically.  _A general’s job is never done._

Rose nodded in response to Hancock’s question.  “We need to find a way in.  Why don’t you take the front, and I’ll check any entrances around back… between the two of us, we ought to be able to break in to at least one of them.”

“I love a positive attitude,” he replied with a grin and a salute.  “Meet you back here in ten.”

Rose headed to the back of the building, moving cautiously with her shotgun up.  She didn’t see any signs of baddies as they came up on the building, but she’d been surprised before.  Being ambushed by a pack of mutated mole rats or overgrown bloatflies wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.

She was checking the locks on the loading dock when a small popping sound reached her ears.  A second later, she felt the impact of some projectile ricochet off of her combat armor.  She swung around, shotgun raised, and opened her mouth to yell for Hancock.  But she no sooner drew a breath then a second projectile pierced the unprotected space between her collarbone and throat.  In shock, she reached up and felt a syringe… someone had a modified syringer out there, with really good range.  In seconds she felt her head go fuzzy, and her vision blurred.  She swayed and fell to her knees as the drug took hold, looking up to see a small group of people dressed in raider leathers approaching from the tree line.  Their boots were the last thing she saw before blacking out completely.

* * *

A few different observations hit her when she began to wake back up.  First, she felt like she had the worst hangover of her life.  Secondly, she was vertical with her arms above her head, and she couldn’t move them.  Thirdly, she couldn’t feel the weight of her body armor or her weapons; she was dressed in just the flannel shirt and jeans she had taken off a gunner some time back.

She cracked open her eyes and groaned as a bright light knifed into her brain.  God, she would kill for some Med-X.  This was even worse that the hangover she had gotten from drinking that vodka back in Cambridge, and that was saying something.

“Well look here, our special guest is finally awake!  How’s the head?”

Rose forced her eyes open at the sound of the gruff voice.  A man came into focus, sitting on a wooden chair a few feet in front of her.  Her eyes marked the paint and scars on his face… he was a raider.  _Greaaattttt._

“Where am I?” she asked, and winced.  Her throat felt like sandpaper.

“Eh, I think you’ve got bigger problems than that to think about.”

“What do you want with me?”

The man chuckled coldly.  “Oh, nothing good, you little bitch.  I promise you that.  You’ve got some serious payback comin’ your way.”

She hoped he didn’t see the blood leave her cheeks.  “Payback?  For what?  I don’t even know who you are!”

“You wouldn’t.  Didn’t stop you from gettin’ my brother killed though.  Maybe you remember…back in Goodneighbor?  Not as good-looking as me, but he tended to leave an impression.  Word on the street is he was put down just after you rolled into town.”

“Wait… your brother was Finn?” she asked, dredging the name up from her memory.  “I didn’t lay a damn hand on him!”

“No, but my sources say that old Mayor Hancock stabbed him for tryin’ to shake you down for insurance money.  So now you’re both gonna die.  Not before we squeeze ole Mr. Mayor for some of those caps he’s got stashed away in that storehouse of his, though.”

 _Fucking raiders._   “What makes you think he’s gonna pay up?”

The raider laughed unpleasantly.  “It’s not every day that a ghoul snags himself a piece of ass as sweet as yours.  Plus, the way I hear it, Hancock’s run with you longer than just about anyone else.  Figure he’s got a bit of a soft spot for his little vault-dweller.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” Rose replied, trying to bluff.  “There isn’t anything there.  He just likes helping me beat the shit out of people like you; that’s all.”

The raider’s expression darkened.  “Then I guess he’ll love this, won’t he?”

* * *

**(Hancock)**

Fifteen minutes had passed, and still no sign of Rose.  He wouldn’t exactly say he was worried; Hancock wondered if she had found a way inside and had just headed in without him.  It wouldn’t be like her; Rose was a reliable companion as far as all that went.  She liked to know where he was, and made sure he knew where she was, at all times.  Things were safer that way.

Just to be sure, Hancock decided to circle around her side of the building to look for an open door or a fire escape- could be she found a way to the roof.  He did nearly a full circle around the thing without seeing a sign of her.  His brow creased, and he doubled back to check again.  Okay, maybe he was getting a _little_ worried.

As he turned around to the backside of the warehouse, he noticed something glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.  Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a syringe, altered to shoot from a rifle like a tranq dart.  Dread started to spill into him at the sight; that wasn’t a good sign.  He picked it up, noting that the needle was snapped - looked like it had hit a hard surface - and that it was still full of whatever drug was still inside it.  He was willing to bet that something that needed to be shot from a distance wasn’t going to be very much fun.

Another quick glance around, and he saw an old scrap of paper skewered on a knife a few feet away.  There was a not very friendly message written on it:

        

         _Hey Hancock, you murdering son of a bitch.  You killed my brother like a dog, so it’s time to pay back the favor.  I took your vault-dweller whore and I’m gonna kill her in four days unless you pay up, big time.  I know you got that storehouse back in Goodneighbor._

_Bring the caps to Backstreet Apparel.  And you better come alone- I see that butch bitch that follows you around and I kill the vault-dweller on the spot._

The letter was signed with a hastily scrawled J.  That didn’t ring any bells, but he had a pretty good idea of who the letter was talking about.  He knew taking out Finn had been a rash decision, but what was he supposed to do?  Goodneighbor was a town that survived on toughness and ruthlessness, when it was needed.  Letting people get away with shit like that was against everything he stood for.  Still, maybe he oughta have just beat the hell out of old Finn, rather than killing him.

No use crying over spilled milk now, though.  A brew of anger and guilt boiled in his chest; the thought of someone hurting Rose infuriated him.  He cared about her, more than he had cared about anyone for a long time.  And he had made enough mistakes out of cowardice in his past; he wasn’t going to let her be another one.

It was time to head back into Boston.


	11. Calling in the Calvary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING. Please proceed into this chapter with caution <3\. Nothing too explicit but the warning stands nevertheless.

**(Rose)**

A scream echoed through the decrepit building, making some of the raiders chuckle, and others flinch.  Jayce was upstairs taking out his anger on their vault-dweller hostage.  It had already been a day, and he got more agitated with every hour that the ghoul didn’t show up.

At the top of the building, Rose hung limply from the chains that bound her wrists.  She was sporting a nasty black eye and many new bruises, and there were several places where her skin was split either from the force of a blow or the cut of a knife.  Burn marks marred the sensitive skin of her wrists and ribcage, where the raider leader had put out his cigarettes.  He had already cracked her ribs twice pummeling her, but he had a supply of stimpaks on hand to keep her from getting too messed up.  Didn’t want to kill her prematurely, she guessed.  Shame, really.

“You’re pretty tough for a vault-dweller,” Jayce remarked as he lit up yet another cigarette.  “I heard some rumors about you out in the Commonwealth, but I didn’t really think any of them were true.”

“I’m flattered,” Rose muttered dryly, her voice hoarse.  “Why don’t you take me out of these chains and you’ll see how tough I really am.”

Jayce chuckled humorlessly.  “Yeah, I’m a raider, but I’m not stupid.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

* * *

**(Hancock)**

Hancock wove through the darker back alleys of Diamond City, tricorn hat pulled low to hide his face.  Ghouls weren’t exactly welcome in the “great green jewel,” him least of all.  But he still recalled enough about the city to be able to sneak in without being seen.

He remembered Rose talking about being friends with old Nick Valentine, and to be honest if there was anyone he would trust to help him out now, the synth would be it.  Nick had been a friend of his since before his brother drove the ghouls out of the city; the guy had a heart of gold, and there was no way he’d stand for Rose to suffer at the hands of those savages.  Hancock just hoped the synth was actually around to help out, and not gone investigating one of his many missing-person cases.

The office was locked when he arrived, but that wasn’t a problem.  He casually picked the lock and let himself in; better to be inside where the guards couldn’t get a good look at his mug.  He leaned against the desk, lit up a cigarette, and set in to wait.

About a half hour or so went by, and then he heard voices outside the door.  A woman and a man; the man had an old-school sort of accent that sounded like one of those old radio shows that still floated through the channels.  Definitely Valentine.  The woman he didn’t recognize; she was much louder, talking about some sort of recent disappearance and the Institute.  A common fear, that.

“Huh, that’s odd, the door’s unlocked,” he heard Valentine mutter.  “Hey Piper, stand back for a minute… something doesn’t seem quite right here.”

The door opened and the synth walked through, instinctively reaching for his pistol when he saw Hancock standing in front of him.  Then he blinked and frowned when he recognized who it was, crossing his arms in disapproval.

“John?  What the hell are you doing in Diamond City?  You’re going to get yourself in trouble hanging around here.”

“My brother wouldn’t have the balls to mess with me, and we both know it.”  Hancock took a quick drag on a cigarette, full of nervous energy.  “Listen, Nicky, I need a favor.”

The synth narrowed his glowing yellow eyes.  “The last time I did you a favor we both nearly ended up in the clink.”

“Nick?  Who is that in there?”

The woman accompanying the synth pushed her way in.  She was young, probably about the same age as Rose, with dark hair and a red leather trenchcoat.  Hancock guessed this was Piper.

“Name’s Hancock,” he replied, tipping his hat.  “Mayor of Goodneighbor, and friend of the famous Rose.  Which is why I’m here, incidentally.”

“Piper,” the woman said, confirming his guess.  He didn't miss the way she stared, and he tried to ignore it.  If she was a true Diamond City resident, then she had probably seen very few ghouls in her lifetime… and there was a good chance that any she had seen were ferals.

“So you’re here for Rose?  What has our mutual friend gotten herself into this time?” Valentine asked, looking worried.  “Must be pretty bad if she can’t be here herself.”

“A group of raiders kidnapped her,” Hancock answered, worry making his voice terse.  “Sedated her with a syringer when we were separated.  They’re holed up in Back Alley Apparel, asking for a hefty ransom.”

“A ransom, eh?” Nick mused.  “Not that I would be surprised if Rose had some enemies, but they give any particular reason why they took her and left you to foot the bill?”

Hancock ducked his head, guilt bringing color to his scarred cheeks.  “Yeah, about that.  Seems they’re tryin’ to get back at me for killin’ one of their own.  Guy named Finn, tried to shake down Rose right as soon as she entered Goodneighbor.  You know I’m not a fan of extortion shit myself, especially not with newcomers.”

“So you killed him?” Piper asked, brown eyes wide.  He wondered if this was going to end up in that newspaper Rose said she ran.  McDonough would _love_ that, the fucking creep.

He tossed his hand dismissively.  “Goodneighbor’s a rough town.  Can’t have people challenging my authority.  And Finn had been askin’ for it for a long time.”

Nick made a disapproving hum in his throat, but otherwise made no comment.  Hancock sighed.

“Look, it’s my fault they took her,” he said.  “Nick, I know I’m a lot of things, but I’m not enough of a bastard to let a friend take the heat for my mistakes.  I’ll go on my own if I need to, but there’s a better chance of getting her out alive if I have some backup.  Sure could use the help.”

“Of course I’ll help, John,” Nick said, briefly clasping his shoulder.  “I owe the woman my life after all, such as it is.”

“I’m in, too,” Piper said.  “Blue’s had my back tons of times.  Looks like now I get to repay the favor.”

“So,” Valentine continued.  “What’s the plan?”

* * *

**(Rose)**

Night had fallen on Back Alley Apparel; Rose could see the dark sky through the cracks in the one boarded-up window across from her.  For now, Jayce and most of his cronies were sleeping, building up their strength for another day of torture, robbery, and mayhem. 

Rose attempted to doze, shaky on her feet.  Her wrists were badly cut from the chains that held her upright; the blood dripped in a steady stream all the way down her arms to stain what was left of her shirt.  The second day had been much worse than the first, and the third even more so; while he hadn’t yet stooped so low as to pass her off to his crew, Jayce himself had raped her more than once, in addition to beating her.  Truthfully, she had expected as much; she had seen too much evidence of what raiders were like in her travels.  Still didn’t make it any easier, though.  She had never really been with any men before Nate, and the fact that she had been violently forced into something that once created intimacy and love between her and her husband made her physically sick.  So now, she tried her best to find solace from her living nightmare in the dark, quiet sanctuary of sleep.

Through her half-awake slumber, she heard the sound of gunshots outside.  Quick pops from pistols.  It wasn’t an unusual sound, not out here in the heart of Boston.  There was some scuffling going on from the guards downstairs, but that was normal too.  They were probably just making sure no one was infringing on their turf.

More pops, and then she twitched in surprise when an explosion shook the walls.  It sounded like one of the turrets going out.

At the noise, Jayce was up like a bullet, peering through the thin openings in the window down at the street below.  He cursed to himself, and quickly picked up his gun and cocked it.  He started towards the door and paused, glancing at her.  If she had possessed any strength, she would have laughed.  What did he think she was going to do?  Miraculously break free while he was distracted?

Apparently that was exactly what he thought, because the last thing she saw was him swinging at her head.  He swiftly knocked her out with a practiced punch, and then locked the door against the intruders.  The lock wouldn’t help much, but at least they wouldn’t make it inside without him noticing.  Now all that was left to do was to sit back, and see if they made it past the rest of his guard.

* * *

**(Hancock)**

“Watch it!”

Nick pulled Hancock’s head back behind the wall just as a shotgun boomed down the staircase.  They had made it inside the building with little trouble - the element of surprise had been on their side with the guards posted outside.  But now everyone was awake and shooting, and things were decidedly more dicey.

“Thanks,” Hancock said, sliding more shells into his own double-barrel.  Nick had always been reliable in combat, despite looking like he was in major need of repairs.  Reporter girl was doing pretty well too; she had squeezed off several good shots with her little 10mm, and one of them had even been the nail in the coffin for the machine gun turret.  He was starting to understand why Rose had spoken so highly of her.

When there was a pause between shots, Hancock leaned back into the stairwell, popped the pin off a frag grenade, and lobbed it up towards the top floor.  There was a brief sound of panic, followed by screams and a quick explosion.

Piper glanced at him.  “That’s one way to clear a room.”

“Always worked well for me,” Hancock replied, smirking.

“Just be careful with those things; you don’t know where they’re keeping Rose,” Nick warned.  “It would be a shame go through all this trouble just to accidentally kill her, don’t you agree?”

“Good point,” Hancock agreed reluctantly.  He hadn’t thought of that.

Nick reloaded his own pistol.  “Why don’t you and Piper head upstairs to see if you can find her; sounds like you cleared out most of them by now.  I’ll stay down here and cover your six.  Give a holler if you find anything.”

Hancock nodded; together he and the nosy reporter girl made it up the stairs.  He noted without comment that her hands shook slightly as she gripped her weapon; from adrenaline or fear, he couldn’t tell.  But her face had a resolute, determined expression, and she hadn’t flaked out so far in spite of having bullets grazing their asses every few seconds.  More than he had expected from her, honestly. 

They made it up to the top of the stairs; the bodies of two raiders were - for lack of a better term - scattered around the floor.  Blood and viscera decorated the walls and ceiling.

“Urgh,” Piper muttered, stepping gingerly around the dismembered limbs.  “Never did like this part.”

“Been in a firefight before?”

She shrugged.  “Kind of unavoidable when you hang around with-”

“Get down!” Hancock shouted, damn near tackling her to the ground as another raider rounded the corner to fire some sort of rifle at her head.  He happened to shove her down directly on top of one of the dead bodies, causing her to squeal with disgust.  It would have been funny if they didn’t have someone trying to put them in the same state.

With a little difficulty, he pulled his shotgun around and fired off a round towards the raider.  The first shot took him in the shoulder, throwing off his aim and knocking the rifle from his hands.  The second shot hit him towards the top of the chest and neck, shredding the unprotected skin above his chest armor.  The raider dropped like a rock, gurgling and sputtering as blood gushed out of his throat.

“Thanks,” Piper said, her cheeks bright red.

“Don’t mention it.”

They moved forward and reached the end of the hallway; there was a single door to their left.  Piper tried it hesitantly and found it locked; not any good with breaking and entering herself, she moved aside to let Hancock pry it open.

“Careful,” she whispered worriedly, eyes darting from the door back to the stairwell.  A well-founded fear, as it turned out; no sooner did the lock click open than a flurry of bullets burst through the wooden door, right where Hancock’s head had been a second before.

“I know that’s you, Hancock!” a male voice inside the room yelled.  “Why don’t you get out here so I can take care of that fucked-up excuse you got for a face?”

“Big talk for someone who looks like the wrong end of a mutant hound!” Piper retorted unexpectedly, and Hancock found himself chuckling.

“You bring another little bitch for me to play with?  That’s considerate of you, Mr. Mayor.  This first one’s gettin’ all used up by now, anyway.”

At that Hancock felt a sharp spike of anger rise in his chest, and he swung around into the room, shotgun leveled right at Jayce’s skull.

The raider chuckled.  “I thought that might get you to show your face.  Your little vault-dweller here, she tried to make out like you could care less about her… but you and me, we know different, don’t we?”

“Oh, Blue,” Piper murmured from behind Hancock.  He didn’t dare look at Rose yet, though he got a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye.  He needed to stay focused.

“Shoulda just left well enough alone there, Jayce,” Hancock growled.  “Finn was outta line.”

Jayce scoffed.  “Yeah, because morality is such a huge part of your shitty little shanty-town, you ghoul prick.”

“At least I don’t go around hurtin’ innocent people, you fuckin’ scumbag.  You got a problem with me, you shoulda had the balls to face me man-to-man.  Woulda been over a lot sooner.”

“Yeah, but this way was a lot more fun,” Jayce said with a nasty grin.  “Gotta give her credit… your little vault-dwelling whore can take a lot of abuse, Hancock.  Tight little piece of ass, too.  Had her moaning more than one of them feral ghouls-”

Hancock snapped, firing two shots in rapid succession.  Jayce ducked the first one, the second one catching his chest.  It knocked the wind out of him, but his armor stopped most of the damage; he rolled out of the way behind an old desk and quickly returned fire.  Oblivious to the danger, Hancock followed, using his shotgun like a club as he swung at Jayce’s head.  It connected and the raider leader slid across the floor to the wall, bleeding from the scalp.  Not willing to waste time to reload, Hancock prepared to swing a second time, intending to bash his head in.

Before he swung, Jayce slipped a switchblade out of his boot and lashed out with it, catching Hancock’s forearm.  Hancock swore and unintentionally dropped his shotgun; Jayce took advantage and pushed the ghoul to the ground, sitting on top of him and swinging to bring the blade down on Hancock’s head.  Hancock caught it inches from his face, muscles straining as he fought to keep Jayce from putting all his weight behind the knife.

There was a pop from a gun, and Jayce fell sideways.  Hancock scrambled up to his feet and prepared to kick Jayce’s head in, but the raider lay motionless, a small trickle of blood oozing from a single hole in his temple.  Surprised, Hancock glanced back at Piper, who still had her gun pointed at the body.  In an unexpected show of hostility, she emptied the rest of the magazine into Jayce’s dead body, before chucking the gun itself at him as hard as she could.

“Fucking bastard,” she hissed, her voice shaking.

Hancock switched his gaze to Rose’s figure behind her, and immediately understood her rage.  Rose was laid out motionless on the ground; it looked like Piper had taken her down from being chained up.  Her clothes were shredded, and every visible inch of skin was bloodstained or purple with bruising.  Hancock crouched down beside her, almost afraid to touch her.

“Is… is she…?” he asked, unable to get the whole question out.

Piper nodded.  “She’s alive; she’s breathing.”  She turned towards the open door.  “Nick!  We need you up here!”

The synth was up in a matter of seconds, though he froze in his tracks when he saw the state of their friend.  Shock and anger crossed his mechanized features, but was quickly replaced by pragmatism.

“She needs a doctor, fast,” he said.  “We need to get her back to Diamond City.”

Hancock shook his head.  “No; they’ll ask too many questions.  We got a doc in Goodneighbor, Amari.  We can take her there.”

“Amari?” Nick repeated thoughtfully.  “I know her.  She can help if anyone can.  But I don’t like the thought of taking her through the streets of Goodneighbor in this condition… no offense, John.”

“She’ll be safe, I swear it,” Hancock replied, moving to lift her up.  “Goodneighbor’s rough, but the people there ain’t dumb enough to mess with me.  And if they are dumb enough, then they won’t be around long.”

“Because violence has served you well thus far,” Nick pointed out.  Hancock opened his mouth to retort, but found he couldn’t.  The synth had a point.

“Look, we can’t keep standing here arguing about this!” Piper said.  “Nick, let’s just take her to Goodneighbor.  It’s closer, and I don’t like the idea of Mayor McDonough or his goons getting wind of what happened here.  He’s liable to ban all three of us if he finds out.”

“Fine,” the synth relented.  “But I’ll carry her.”  Before Hancock could object, Nick continued, “My mechanical body is going to wear out a lot less quickly than either of yours, and carrying around a person is a lot more difficult than lugging a gun and a knapsack.”

Hancock made a displeased growl in his throat, but allowed Nick to gingerly pick up Rose’s limp body.  She didn’t stir at all, and he worried that too much damage had already been done.  Damn it, this was why he didn’t get attached to people!  It was too easy for someone to end up getting hurt.

Without another word, the trio took off back into the streets of Boston, moving as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves.


	12. A Long Way From Okay

**(Hancock)**

“Jesus, what on earth happened to her?” Doctor Amari exclaimed as she took in the sight of Rose’s battered body.  She had never been a huge fan of Hancock, but she admitted them as soon as she saw Nick.

“Raiders,” Nick said icily.  “Kidnapped and tortured her for three days.”

“Set her on the cot there,” Amari ordered, going to the sink to scrub her hands.  “And then get out.”

“I don’t think so,” Hancock said.  “We’re not going anywhere.”

Amari fixed him with a firm stare.  “Mr. Mayor, I’m going to need to remove what’s left of her clothes to judge the extent of her injuries.  Miss -Piper, is it? - can stay to help, but you and Mr. Valentine need to wait upstairs until we’re done.”

“Let the doc work, John,” Nick said gently, taking him by the arm.  “Piper will keep watch over Rose.  She’s not going anywhere.”

After a moment, Hancock gave in, following Nick upstairs to wait in the Memory Den lobby.  The room was thankfully empty.  Nick took a seat while Hancock paced, lighting up a cigarette to help steady his nerves.  God, he would kill for a hit of Jet right about now.  Or a hit of anything, really.  Anything that would take away the godawful chaos in his head.

“She’ll be alright, John,” Nick said, after watching the ghoul for a few minutes.  “How did you two meet, anyway?”

“She came up into town looking for leads on her son,” Hancock replied distractedly.  “That sonofabitch Finn tried to scam her not two seconds through the doors, and I put him down when he wouldn’t back off.”

“Made a hell of a first impression, I imagine.”

“I would have thought so too, but Rose, she just rolled with it.  Shook my hand and everything.  Didn’t so much as flinch.”

“She’s a tough cookie, that’s for sure,” Nick agreed.  “Doesn’t much surprise me that she agreed to travel with you either; Rose has a bad habit of seeing the best in people.”

Hancock crossed his arms.  “Let me guess, you think she’s too good to be hanging around a degenerate like me, am I right?”

“It’s not my place to make that judgment for her,” Nick replied coolly.  “And I know that what happened to her wasn’t entirely your fault, much as I’d like to blame you for it right now.  She’s got her own enemies; could have been any one of them that lashed out at her.  But she’s a good person, Hancock, and you’ve got a reputation for making bad choices.  You’ve been my friend for a long time, but…”

Hancock started to retort, but at that moment Piper appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Dr. Amari says that you two can come see Blue now, if you want,” she said.  “She’s a little out of it - Amari gave her a pretty big hit of Med-X to help with the pain until the stimpaks and stuff kick in.  But she’s conscious, for a little while anyway.”

Nick immediately got up and headed to the stairs, but Hancock hesitated.  On the surface, he wanted to tell the old synth to shove his judgments up his metal ass; deeper down, though, Nick’s words hit a nerve.   Ever since Rose had been taken, he had been rethinking his decision to travel with her.  She was a little too easy to like, and he had let her get closer than anyone else had in a long time.  He wasn’t sure if he could deal with the guilt of what he put her through, or if he was willing to stick around until one of them ultimately got hurt.  Or in Rose’s case, hurt again.

At Piper’s questioning look, though, he put out the cigarette he had forgotten he was holding, and followed the pair down the stairs.

* * *

**(Rose)**

Rose was propped up on the cot, eyes still closed wearily as they entered.  Her color was already improved, though, and she breathed more evenly; it was a good thing that stimpaks worked as quickly as they did.  Her skin was covered in the yellowing patches of healing bruises, and she had a few bandages wrapped around the worst cuts on her arms and her wrists.

Amari stopped them as they walked through the door.

“I reset any broken bones, and a few large stimpaks over the next couple of days will take care of the worst of the damage,” she said.  “I can’t speak as to her mental state, though, so you three need to be very careful.  She went through a horrific ordeal, and may have trouble bringing herself out of that mindset.  Or she could completely repress it; it’s hard to say.  For now she is sedated, though, and should stay reasonably calm.”

Amari hesitated for a moment, and then continued.  “Though I want to protect her privacy, I do think it prudent to warn the two of you-” here she looked at Nick and Hancock, “- that it is very possible that she could have a violent reaction to any male presence, if you catch my meaning.  It may be best to hang back and let Piper approach her first.”

Nick exhaled in a long sigh, his clenched fists the only visible sign of his anger for his friend.  Hancock went pale, but otherwise only nodded and went to lean against the wall, hat tipped down to hide his eyes.  He had been afraid of that, and didn’t trust himself to respond just yet.

Piper, meanwhile, moved next to Rose, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, Blue,” she said quietly.  “You with us, huh?”

Rose jumped at her touch, flinching away until her eyes focused on her friend.

“Piper?”  The words came slow on her tongue.  “What are you… where am I?”

“In the Memory Den, in Goodneighbor.  We got you out, Blue.  You’re safe.”

Relief flooded Rose’s face, and she closed her eyes again, letting out a long, shuddering breath.

“I remember hearing gunshots… I thought it was just more raiders,” she said at length.  “You took them all out yourself?”

Piper chuckled.  “Yeah, I’m not a superhuman like you, Blue.  It was the three of us.”

For the first time, Rose’s gaze flickered over to Nick and Hancock.  She tensed momentarily, but relaxed as the rational part of her brain reminded her that they were friends.  After a few moments, she even smiled.

“Nick!” she exclaimed, reaching out to take the synth’s hand.  “I guess we’re even now, huh?”

“I guess so,” he replied, giving her a warm smile.  “Good to see you on the mend there, Rose.  You had us pretty worried.”

Rose looked over at Hancock, confused as to why the ghoul was keeping his distance.

“You actually came for me,” she said, voice soft.  “I wasn’t sure that you would.”

Hancock shrugged.  “Hey, what do I always say?  Help people that need helpin’, hurt people that need hurtin’.  You needed help, and they sure as hell needed to be hurt.  Glad to see you’re doin’ alright, doll.”

She nodded, and wanted to say more, but her eyelids were getting intolerably heavy.  She barely noticed as Amari quietly ushered her friends out the door, with promises to keep her under observation 24/7.  Exhaustion took over, and she drifted back into a dreamless sleep.


	13. Feeling Human

**(Piper)**

It wasn’t long before Nick had to return to Diamond City; as much as he wanted to stay until he was certain Rose was back on her feet, there were other people who needed his help.  Piper stayed, though, catching a few hours of sleep here and there in Hotel Rexford when she wasn’t playing sentinel over their friend.  Rose was healing rapidly, and getting well enough to be impatient with Amari, who refused to let her do more than walk to the bathroom by herself. 

But though Rose’s body was visibly improving, Piper worried about her mental state.  Rose stubbornly resisted any attempt to get her to open up about what she had gone through.  She had started tossing and turning in her sleep, whimpering her way through nightmares.  More than once, she had jerked awake with a scream, reaching for weapons that weren’t there, and Piper had to fight to bring her back into the present.  Her constant fear was that Rose, who had been stronger and more resilient than probably anyone on the planet, was reaching a breaking point.

As for Hancock, the ghoul had mostly visited when Rose was sleeping, and he never stayed for long.  Piper took personal offense to this, reading his detachment as an absence of concern.  She could tell that in spite of everything, Rose still cared for him; she asked about him each time she was awake, and Piper could see her disappointment when he continued to avoid the Memory Den. She didn’t ask about it or pass comment, though, and Piper didn’t press her to, not wanting to agitate her.

It had been about four days, and Rose was nearly well enough for Amari to be comfortable releasing her into the care of her friends.  Piper was taking a brief break in the Third Rail, nursing a beer and listening to Magnolia croon while she sketched an outline for her next article.  It was a positive piece, for once; her firsthand account of taking out a local raider gang and saving a kidnapped innocent.  Though for Rose’s sake, she didn’t name her or go into specifics.  Ever the activist, she couldn’t resist penning in a call to action in the last few lines, urging the people to protect each other and stand up against the vile psychopaths that terrorized the streets outside their city.

The sound of loud greetings and laughs made her glance up, and she scowled as she saw Hancock enter the bar.  He was immediately surrounded by patrons who offered him drinks and gratitude, and he fielded it all with a confidence that had them laughing and cheering. 

 _He has them eating out of his hand_ , Piper mused.  It burned her to see him act so carefree, after what he had put Blue through.  And the fact that these people were treating him like some sort of saint made it even worse.

When she could stand it no longer she walked over to the crowd, pushing aside the fawning citizens until she reached their leader.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” she said loudly from behind him, and the talking died off as he turned to face her.  “Glad to see that you’re having so much fun… must be nice to be able to party and do whatever you want, instead of, you know, not being able to leave a hospital bed.”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed.  “Nice to see you too, Piper.”

“I’d be careful if I were one of you,” Piper continued, addressing the residents who were watching her.  “Hanging around your good old Mayor here might just get you beat to hell and k-”

“Why don’t we take this outside?” Hancock growled in a low voice, grabbing her roughly by the arm and steering her up the stairs before she could protest.  He pushed her out the door into the empty alley and slammed the door shut behind them.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded hotly.

Piper crossed her arms.  “Just calling a certain mayor out on his bullshit.  I’ve gotten pretty good at that back in Diamond City.”

“What you’re doin’ is trying to get your ass kicked.”   He gestured around them.  “In case you haven’t noticed, this ain’t your ‘great green jewel.’  You go mouthin’ off like that, and people ain’t gonna hesitate to introduce your face to the pavement just for killin’ their buzz.”

Piper’s face was pale, but she stood her ground.  “I don’t care.  We’ve been here for what, four days now?  And how much of that have you spent out here playing mayor and schmoozing, instead of making sure Blue is okay?”

“She doesn’t need me to be okay,” he replied, voice tight.

Piper laughed bitterly.  “Oh, you’re so full of shit.  How would you even know?  You know she’s asked for you at least a couple times per day, right?  God knows why.  I certainly can’t tell what she sees in you.”

“Then I guess that makes two of us.” 

Hancock pulled out a cigarette and turned to walk away, but Piper grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

“Oh no you don’t, jerk,” she snapped.  “Listen, if it were up to me, I’d say to hell with you, and convince Blue to cut her losses.  But for some crazy reason, she still thinks you’re her friend, and you’re hurting her by behaving like some chicken shit who can’t face his own problems.  I mean, just what is your deal, anyway?”  She shook her head.  “When you showed up in Nick’s office, I thought I was seeing someone who was enough of a man to be there when his friends needed him.  Now all I see is a coward who is willing to let someone deal with a hideous trauma by herself because he’s too scared to shoulder the guilt.”

“Look, I’m the last fucking person she needs to see, alright?” Hancock retorted.  “She was tortured and raped because that psychotic piece of shit wanted to get back at me.  _I’m_ the reason she went through all of that, as much as if I had done it all to her myself.  She’s better off movin’ on.”

Piper still stood firm, but her expression softened slightly at his outburst.   “She calls out for you, you know,” she said quietly.  “In her sleep, when she’s having nightmares.  She calls your name.  Not anyone else’s.  Not me, not Nick, not her husband.  Just you.”

A stunned look replaced Hancock’s angry expression.  His shoulders slumped, and he rocked back against the alley wall as he absorbed what she said.

“I understand feeling guilty,” Piper persisted.  “But I don’t think she blames you, and I don’t think she wants you to blame yourself, either.  You really want to do right by her?  Then go be there for her.”

Hancock sighed heavily.  “I’m not good at the whole emotions thing.  Or the whole caring-about-people thing.”

Piper scoffed.  “No shit.  So go be bad at it.”

He gave her a wry look.  “Rose wasn’t kidding when she said you were more deadly with your words than your gun.  Christ, Piper.  You don’t let up, do you?”

Piper smirked in spite of herself.  “Damn straight.  But I’m warning you… if you hurt her, I’m gonna kill you.  Seriously.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”


	14. Road to Recovery

**(Hancock)**

Hancock paced absently around the main room of the Old State House.  His thoughts were on Rose, and everything Piper had said.  That girl was certainly in the right business, being a reporter; she had seen through his bullshit like fucking glass, and hadn’t hesitated in the slightest when it came to confronting him on it.  Not many people had the balls to call him out like that; as much as it had pissed him off, he had to admit that he had a newfound respect for the young brunette.

He knew that he was avoiding seeing Rose, and he hated himself for it.  After all his talk of never standing by, he was fucking paralyzed when the thought of talking to her came up.  Seeing her broken nearly to death had been bad enough; knowing that it had been on his account was a whole other fucking level of guilt.  He had spent the last few days making the rounds with the residents, reminding them he was still alive, and getting high or drunk in the interim so he wouldn’t have to think about, well, anything.  Whenever he was sober, he wrestled with the instinct to run, to leave all this craziness behind. 

But Piper had been absolutely fucking right.  He’d been so wrapped up in his own turmoil that he hadn’t given a thought to what Rose was going through.  What killed him was that she had every right to hate him, to blame him for every bruise and burn and broken bone… and according to Piper, she didn’t.  How the hell was he supposed to live up to that superhuman level of forgiveness?  It wasn’t something he was used to it in the least, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

But, as little miss reporter had pointed out, what _he_ was feeling didn’t matter.  He needed to go see Rose and face what had happened, even if he sucked at it.  He owed her that much.

At length, he steeled himself and left for the Memory Den, resisting the urge to fortify himself with a hit of Jet.  He had just walked out into the side alley when the sound of Daisy’s and KLEO’s voices caught his attention.

“Not that we ain’t thrilled to see ya, but are you sure you should be out here walkin’ around yet?” Daisy was asking.  “Seems to me that smoothskin friend of yours said that you’d be on the mend for another day or two yet.”

“I’ve been down for long enough,” came Rose’s voice, and Hancock’s jaw nearly hit the pavement.  _Is she serious?  How the hell did she escape Amari?_

“There are people who’ll be wondering what happened to me,” Rose continued.  “And I’m not going to make any headway on finding my son sitting in bed.  But I’m pretty sure those fucking raiders made off with all of my weapons.  KLEO, do you think you could help a girl out?”

“Just what in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”  Hancock demanded, having walked up to them at this point.  Rose jumped and pulled back in a defensive stance, as though expecting to be attacked.  Daisy had the grace to look somewhat guilty and sidled away.  KLEO, as always, was impassive.

“Just re-arming myself,” Rose replied, her expression stubborn.  “I lost what caps I had on me, but I was hoping that I could take a loan from KLEO until I could pay her back.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Hancock growled, in equal turns incredulous and angry.

“What’s the deal, Hancock?  I’m standing on my own two feet, in case you haven’t noticed!  I’m _fine_.”

“The hell you are.”  He grabbed a pistol from behind KLEO’s counter and loaded it, before shoving it into Rose’s arms.  “You really think you’re fine?  Let’s see you shoot one of those bottles off of that bench.  Fifteen feet away, shouldn’t be a problem, right?  I’ve seen you hit targets way farther away than that.”

Rose glared at him, but cocked the pistol and took aim.  It didn’t escape his notice how much her arms shook when she held the gun, and he wasn’t surprised at all when her shot pulled left and ricocheted off of the bricks.

“Yeah, that’s gonna serve you real well when you’ve got supermutants on your ass,” he commented sarcastically, and Rose huffed to herself in frustration.

“I’m just out of practice.”

“No, you’re out of luck,” he corrected her, taking the gun back and crossing his arms.  “No way I’m letting you out of those doors like that.  You’ll get yourself killed.”

“We all gotta die sometime, right?” she muttered, flinching when Hancock closed the distance between them and grabbed her arm.

“Get your ass back to the Memory Den, or so help me, Rose, I will throw you over my shoulder and take you there myself.”

She met his gaze with daggers in her own.  “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You really want to try me, doll?”

The two of them faced off for a few moments more, the air tense enough for even KLEO to make herself scarce.  Eventually, Rose decided that Hancock really would make good on his threat, and relented.

“Fine,” she said, yanking her arm free and pushing past him.  “But I’m not going back into the Memory Den.  I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Great, I’ll join you.”  He heard her wordless groan of exasperation and almost smiled in spite of himself.

“I don’t need a babysitter, _John_ ,” Rose said pointedly as she made her way down the stairs into the Third Rail.

“Wasn’t my intention.  Maybe I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated again, her voice carefully emotionless.

“Yeah, you said that before,” Hancock said.  “Two glasses from my personal reserves, Charlie,” he added to the robot manning the bar. 

Thankfully, the bar was nearly empty, it being the early hours of the morning.  Only one or two people snoozed in the corners, sleeping off their habit.  Hancock leaned against the bar and studied his friend; she had lost weight, and her cheekbones stood out in a new sharpness under the glow of the lights.  Her eyes had dark circles under them, and their expression was guarded, wary.  She fidgeted as she sat on her stool, constantly glancing towards the staircase as though checking for new arrivals.  While she had possessed a self-assured, relaxed demeanor before, she now seemed tense, uncertain, and anxious.  She was trying to put on a brave face; her stubbornness back out in the alley had shown that much.  But the strain of what she had gone through, heaped on top of every other wicked curveball that fate had thrown at her, was breaking through that mask.

All in all, it was like the woman who had strode into Goodneighbor so confidently a few weeks before had been completely replaced, almost like she had been swapped with a synth.  Almost.  It might’ve been better if that had actually been the case, come to think of it.  Hancock did his best to keep his expression neutral, but seeing her like that fucking killed him.    

“So cut the bullshit with me,” he said, bringing her gaze back to him.  “Piper’s already filled me in on some of the details.  What’s really goin’ on in your head?”

Rose closed her eyes and took a swig of the whiskey that Whitechapel Charlie had brought them.  “You don’t wanna know, Hancock.”

“That bad, huh?”

She grimaced, then rubbed unconsciously at her wrists- the same areas where the chains had cut through her skin.  She didn’t reply immediately, and as Hancock watched her a spark of insight went off in his brain.

“You know that being afraid doesn’t make you weak, right?” he said quietly.

Rose sighed heavily.  “I don’t have that luxury,” she replied.  “Fear makes you shut down.  If I do that, I’m abandoning my son, and everyone else who’s depending on me.”

“Newsflash, sister,” Hancock countered.  “Last time I checked, you aren’t a synth, or some other fucking pile of bolts and gears.  I’m still on the fence on whether or not you’re actually some kind of superhuman-” she snorted at that “- but you’re still flesh and blood, Sunshine.  Which means you gotta cut yourself a little slack.”

“Other people have gone through the same or worse-”

“And have ended up high out of their minds in the gutter, or dead,” Hancock said firmly.

“I wish that sounded worse than it does right now.”  She took a deep breath, steadying herself. 

“I know what you mean.  Been there myself a few times.”

“How did you get past it?”

He shrugged.  “For me?  Drugs.  _Lots_ of drugs.  That’s how I got to be this good-looking, actually.  Came across some sort of experimental drug, only one hit left.  I was in a bad place, but I wasn’t stupid… I knew what it would do to me.  But I couldn’t fucking look at my own face in the mirror anymore.”  He lightly nudged her shoulder.  “Not that partying with you isn’t a hell of a time, but somehow I don’t think the same situation would work for you.”

“Is that why you’re getting me drunk in a bar?” she asked wryly, knocking back the second glass that Charlie had refilled for her.  Hancock chuckled.

“Nah.  I’m doing that on the off chance you get frisky again.”

Rose actually laughed at that, briefly.  “You’re incorrigible, Mr. Mayor.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Rose chuckled again, but quickly grew somber as her thoughts drifted back to the dark place in her memory.

“There have been a lot of close calls these past few months,” she said, almost like she was speaking to herself.  “But every time I got myself into trouble, it would all happen so fast… I didn’t have time to be scared.  I just reacted, you know?  Even with that fucking deathclaw out in Concord.  Something jumps out at you, you pull the trigger or run or whatever.  But being… being chained up like that…”

Her whole body had started shaking, and she tucked her head between her forearms, like she was hiding. 

“You don’t have any choice but to feel it,” she finished, so softly that he almost couldn’t hear her.  She glanced up at him with eyes that suddenly looked as old as she really was.  “I’ve never wanted to die before, Hancock.  Not when Nate was killed.  Not when I was thrown headfirst into this world of monsters on my own.  I lost everything that made up my entire existence, and death was never an option.  But damn it…”  Her eyes teared up, and she roughly brushed them away.  “I wished for death every goddamn minute that fucking bastard had me.”

Hancock wasn’t even aware of the impulse crossing his brain.  Without thinking, he pulled her off of the stool and into his arms, clutching her so tightly that it was as though he was afraid she would drop dead on the spot.  And to his great surprise- rather than jerking away- she immediately gave in, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his back.  A solitary tremor went through her, and then she was wracked with quiet sobs.  Hancock didn’t move; he just silently stood and held her, allowing her to vent all of the pent-up darkness she had been trying to ignore.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come see you,” he murmured quietly, when her sobs had worked down to hiccups.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”  He pulled back just a little so that he could look her in the face.  “I was being a self-absorbed prick.  I shoulda been there the entire time.  I bet it wouldn’t have even been a question for you, if we’d switched places.”

“I forgive you,” she said, her voice gentle.  He chuckled in disbelief.

“You are somethin’ else, Sunshine.  There have been saints less forgiving than you, you know that?”

The barest hint of a smile crossed her features.  “If it makes you feel better, you can tell yourself that I’m just not in the mood to kick your ass at the moment.”

He rolled his eyes.  “That’s a comforting thought, thanks.”

“No problem.”

She surprised him again, when she leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on his lips.  There was none of the urgency or heat of the last couple times… it was a gesture of comfort, as much for her sake as his.  She rested her forehead against his and breathed in his scent, her body sagging a little as exhaustion started to take over.

Hancock felt her start to go limp and very carefully picked her up to cradle her body against his chest.

“Let’s get you some rest, huh doll?”

Rather than taking her back into the Memory Den, he carried her up into the Old State House to his own room.  He figured an actual bed- along with some privacy- would probably do her a hell of a lot more good than another night on that gurney under Amari’s stern watch.

He laid her out on the bed and turned to leave, intending to crash on one of the couches in the conference room, but Rose caught his sleeve.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, a little shyly.  “I don’t really want to be alone.”

“Now how I can say no to that?” he teased lightly.  He shrugged out of his coat and kicked off his boots, settling in next to her. 

Rose spooned herself against his chest, and gave a small contented sigh when he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer.  With just a few minutes she was asleep, and it was a relief to see her face relaxed and peaceful in the dim lighting that filtered in from the open window.

“Sleep tight, Sunshine,” Hancock murmured, as sleep began to take over him as well.  “I’m never gonna let a damn thing happen to you, not ever again.”


	15. More Than Friends?

Hancock woke up first, sometime around noon if the height of the sun was anything to go by.  Rose continued to doze, head resting on his chest.  She’d had a few nightmares; each time she woke up shaking or ready to bolt, but then Hancock would pull her closer and talk quietly about nothing until she steadied enough to drift off again.  It was odd how simple it was, actually.  Relationships had always been so complicated, but it was like Rose was fine just knowing he was there.  Even with everything that was wrong with her at the moment, she was making it easy.

After not too long Rose stirred and stretched, grumbling as her stiff muscles protested.

“Good morning, love,” Hancock said, and was rewarded with a smile and a brief kiss.  “Gotta say, I don’t think I’ve ever actually _slept_ with someone before.  Done everything else, but I’ve never been one to hang around afterwards.”  He gave her one of his trademark mischievous grins.  “And we’re both still fully clothed… yep, definitely a first.”

Rose rolled her eyes, but was still smiling.  “You’re a dog.  But thank you for staying… that was the most sleep I’ve gotten without being sedated in like a week.”

“My pleasure.”

“Hey Hancock!”  Piper’s voice rang through the thin walls.  “Hey, where are you at, you good-for-nothing ghoul?  Blue’s nowhere to be found; I know you had her in the Third Rail last night, and if something happened to her on your watch…”

She slammed the door open, clearly on the warpath, but froze almost comically still the instant she saw the two of them in bed together.

“Hancock, you lecherous monster, you DID NOT-”

“Piper, stop!” Rose said, sitting up and holding up her hands.  Hancock, meanwhile, was incapacitated with laughter.  “Nothing happened!”

Piper gave her a disbelieving look, so Rose hastened to explain.  “I didn’t want to go back to the Memory Den, and I asked Hancock to stay with me so that I wouldn’t have to sleep alone.  I swear to God.  That’s all.”

“She’s right, Miss Reporter,” Hancock added, having finally caught his breath enough to speak.  “I swear on my honor as mayor of Goodneighbor, I am completely innocent.  For maybe the first time in my life.”

“Yeah, because that means a whole lot,” Piper grumbled, but she looked mollified.  “Lucky for you, because if you had taken advantage of Blue in the state’s she’s in, I would have broken your legs and left you out in Boston Common.”

“You know, friendship makes you a very violent person.”

“Only when I’m dealing with you.”  The brunette reporter turned back to Rose.  “Blue, Nick just came back into town looking for you.  Says he’s got a lead on the guy who took your son.”

“What?” Rose jumped up and almost knocked her over in her haste to get out the door.  “Where is he?”

No sooner were the words out of her mouth did she run headfirst into the synth, who had followed Piper up the stairs.  He caught her before she fell, stumbling back only a few steps.

“Whoa, easy there!” Nick said, sounding half amused and half concerned.  “Tearing around like that is a quick way to land you back in Amari’s basement.”  His artificial yellow eyes glanced over at the doorway, where Hancock was standing and clearly trying not to laugh again.  Piper seethed, punching him in the arm, which only made it worse.

“Glad to see those two have been getting along so well,” Nick observed dryly, and Piper let out a sarcastic _ha!._

“What did you find out, Nick?” Rose asked, refusing to be distracted.  “Did you find the man who took Shaun?”

The synth turned his attention back to her.  “In a manner of speaking.  Remember when I said your description rang a bell?  Ellie and I dug through some of our files, and I think we found who it was.  Man named Kellogg, real piece of work.  Matches your description, or at least he did the last time anyone saw him.”

“Do we know where he is?”

“He had a house rented in Diamond City for a while… I suggest we start there.”  Nick paused, brow creased.  “Rose… he had a kid with him.  Too old to be your son, but if Kellogg is making a living off of kidnapping children… could be that he took them to the same place.  He doesn’t strike me as the type to have a son of his own.”

“Well what are we waiting for?” Rose asked, already halfway down the stairs.  “Let’s go get the bastard.  I’m going to find Shaun, and put that murdering psychopath in his grave.”

 

 

**[END OF PART 1]**


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